


Looking for Polaris

by Rymdunge



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don’t copy to another site, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Ford is kind of in the story, Gen, Road Trips, Stan doesn't know what's going on, Time Travel, no road trip is complete without a few near-death experiences, stronger violence than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rymdunge/pseuds/Rymdunge
Summary: Stan leaves his brother's house behind after his hopes of reunification are dashed again. When two kids show up out of nowhere, he is somehow talked into letting them come along. As far as Stan knows, he's the best shot they have at escaping from whatever they're running from. But who's helping who?(I’ll be trying to do at least one illustration per chapter.)





	1. Gravity Falls, Oregon

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the spell check to American English, but it still doesn't mark the British spelling as incorrect so who knows what kind of English this is.
> 
> Everything I know about US geography I've learned from Google.

Oregon might become the first state Stan banned _himself_ from. Cold, dark and creepy – yes, the whole state, all the time.

He opened the car door calmly, set his bag down in the passenger seat without hurling it, got behind the wheel and closed the door without slamming it. The wind howled outside and snow beat against the windshield. Snow that had snuck in under his jacket melted and trickled down his body. Chunks of the stuff crumbled off his boots and pooled in the foot space.

He brought his fist down on the steering wheel. “Shit!” His forehead fell against the cold plastic. “Get it together, Pines. Get it together.” Breathe. Breathe. Alright.

He started the engine, leaving Ford’s house behind him.

The Stanleymobile was the closest thing Stan had to a home, and he knew all her quirks and limitations. If he hadn’t been so busy being pissed off, he would have noticed the difference in weight quicker.

The windshield wipers were going as fast as they could, just barely keeping the view clear enough. The insistent thwum-thwum-thwum set his teeth on edge and snow kept piling up outside the edge of their reach, limiting his view on the sides.

Something hit the windshield with a squeak and a thud, and was wiped away a second later, before Stan got a good look at it – some kind of bird. It’d left an explosive blood stain behind that didn’t go away even after a few rounds from the wipers. He could have flicked on the wiper fluid, if the tank hasn’t been empty.

The stain was about the size of the palm of his hand and, mostly, partly see through. He could manage.

No sooner had he thought that, than a shower of whatever-it-was pummeled the windshield in quick succession.

“Oh, c’mon!”

He stepped on the break, not bothering to move to the side of the road. If some idiot was out driving at this time they only had themselves to blame. He tried clearing the blood off with the scraper he kept in the car door, but it was tough work. It had a weird consistency, like syrup mixed with gum and it stuck to the glass and the scraper and his gloves like glue.

He muttered several verses of foul language until the window was finally clean enough to see through. The headlights threw long shadows over the snow, like rivers running into the darkness.

What kind of bird had purple, sparkling blood? “Who gives a shit?”

Back in the car, he allowed himself a moment to sit on his hands until some of the ache went away. He flicked the wipers back on, glaring at them as they got stuck and dragged through the blood splatter. The irregular beat was going to be impossible to tune out.

Between the snow and the dark and the (purple glitter) blood splatter, Stan only noticed the tree a hair's width before it was too late. The car screeched to a halt, so close to the log that the headlights were all but blotted out by it.

For a moment he just sat there, staring at the enormous log laying across the road.

“Seriously!?”

It was as thick as he was tall, and blocking off the entire road. He must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, because there was no way that thing could’ve come down in the short time he’d been at Ford’s. It’d take a full hurricane to bring down a trunk like that. So why was there no snow on top of it?

Stan put the car in reverse to get a better view. He twisted around to look where he was going. When he looked back around, the tree was gone.

The tree was _gone._ “What the fuck.”

The massive log that had been laying across the road had vanished into thin air without a peep, in the seconds he hadn’t had his eyes on it. He stepped out the car. “What the actual fuck!?” His voice echoed through the woods.

His mind clamped down on whys and hows and whats. It didn’t matter. He just had to get away. Back to Ford’s? No. He slipped back in the car, keeping his eyes fixed on where the log had been. Just go – anywhere out of this hell-forest.

He made it all the way into town without incident. Out of the woods in both senses. It wasn’t that late in the evening yet, but most of the lights were already turned off, and the streets were dead.

Something stepped into the road straight out of nowhere, and it was lucky for the person-like cat-faced old woman that Stan had been ready on the breaks. The woman smiled at him – which he did not care for – and waved. Like they were two friends casually bumping into each other.

“Yeesh.” Stan kept still until the old woman had disappeared around the corner. From the pep in her step, nearly getting run over hadn’t done much to ruin her mood. Seemed like the woods wasn’t the only weird thing around these parts.

A weak laugh escaped him. “Looks like you found the perfect place for yourself.” Nope, not thinking about that. He looked around, eyes falling on a run-down convenience store. He hadn’t stopped a lot on his way up here, so he was almost out of food. Might as well get the restocking over with now.

He peered through the door before entering. The store was empty but for the woman behind the till. All the lights were turned on, and the hot dog grill was going like this was a truck stop off the interstate, and not a town that apparently went to bed at six.

The woman looked normal, more or less. Maybe a bit too excited for how dead her store was. Her eyes snapped to Stan the second the bell above the door jingled, like she’d been waiting for it. Stan gave a nod and a strained smile. The trick was to look like you didn’t mind anyone noticing you.

If there had been at least one other person in the store he could’ve gotten away with more, but a loaf of bread and a jar of ‘Mystery Surprise Jam’ – yikes – wasn’t nothing. He picked up some chips and strolled up to the counter.

“Evening, stranger,” said the woman.

“Evenin’,” Stan muttered back. “A pack smokes as well.”

“Not a lot of people like wandering about this late at night,” said the woman, in a cheerful tone. She set the cigarettes down next to the chips. “I’d be careful about these woods if I were you. Strange things can happen at night.”

“Little late for that warning, palerella,” Stan muttered, sticking his legally acquired wares in his pockets.

The woman squinted at him for a moment, before her eyes went wide. Stan’s heart stuttered. “Say, aren’t you that scientist living up in the woods?”

Stan clenched his teeth together. “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“No, no, you look just like him!”

“Must be one of those ‘strange things’,” Stan said with air quotes before making for the door.

“Do take care now!” the woman called after him as the door swung shut.

The small roads in the forest had been somewhat sheltered from the elements, but the conditions of the main road were, honestly, fucking terrible. The falling snow was wet and heavy – like driving through thick soup. Under it, the road was covered in ice. It made every pedal push utterly unpredictable, but he’d take it over disappearing trees.

The road went on in a dead-straight line, descending into darkness and blizz. Trees stood on both sides of the road, tall and dark and featureless. He drove and drove, and it felt like he was getting nowhere. Like one of those nightmares where you’re running and running, and when you stop to look behind, you’re right where you started. Between the engine and the window wipers and the wind, he shouldn’t be able to hear his own breath. The world shouldn’t feel so quiet.

It was only when he was taken off guard by a turn that came out of nowhere that he noticed that the weight in the car didn’t move like it should when he hit the breaks. His mind wanted to race with images of what could have possibly caused the added bulk, but speculation wasn’t going to do anything now.

He took a breath and kept going until he came to a rest stop with a pair of blinking streetlights, parked the car and grabbed his trusty baseball bat from behind the passenger seat.

Snow was still coming down in heavy clumps and his fingers ached as they gripped the bat. He shut the driver door and peered through the backseat window. Everything looked to be in order. Or rather, in the same kind of mess he’d left it in. He opened the door quietly and used the bat to poke around in the clutter, ready for some rabid animal (or whatever else) to jump out at him.

There came a small “ow” from the back of the car, and he knew better than to assume he was imagining things. He moved to the trunk, bat raised as he threw it open.

“What the-”

Bright voices screamed back at him. It took Stan a split second to realise that it wasn’t some freaky animal, but he was too confused to feel any relief. Kids? What the he-y?

Two round faces stared up at him from between the cardboard boxes. They were hugging each other protectively. The boy one looked terrified, while the girl was quickly regaining her composure.

“Ooo, love your hair!” she said with a grin full of metal.

Stan lowered the baseball bat. “Get the heck out of there,” he said in a aggressively flat tone.

The kids climbed out the car on wobbly legs. Stan noted of how similar they looked – same face shape and fluffy brown hair – and then firmly shoved that observation to the back of his mind. The girl leaned back against the bumper, looking around with unhealthy curiosity. Her clothes could’ve taken an eye out with how colorful they were – a bright pink sweater with two glitter-gold hands in clasped in a heart shaped handshake, paired with chunky rainbow socks and gloves, and pink earmuffs hanging around her neck.

The boy took one steadying step to the side and slipped on the icy ground. Stan snatched him up by the back of his vest jacket. This one was wearing a brown knit cap and blue and white sweater under the jacket.

“Look, you little brats, I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing here, but I do not have time for runaways.”

“We’re not runaways!” said the boy, swatting at Stan’s hand like an angry kitten.

“Sure you ain’t, kid. Now, where did you get in?”

The kids shared a talkative look. “Not telling,” they said, in almost perfect unison.

Stan let go of the boy so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. It would be twins, wouldn’t? Two annoying little peas in a pod. Because the universe’s favorite pastime was kicking the ever living carp out of Stanley Pines.

They must’ve gotten in in Gravity Falls, while he stopped for food. No way they’d been running around the forest this time of night. No way he wouldn’t have heard them while trying to clean his window, or staring at the giant log like an idiot.

It wasn’t like him not to remember to lock his car, though. He tried to think back to the last time he’d checked the trunk of his car, and how many stops he’d made after that. Over the years, he’d developed the habit of sticking things he was using in the back or passenger seats, whereas the trunk had become more of a long-term storage type of deal. It could’ve been days since he last opened it. The kids could have snuck in before he went to see Ford even. He hadn’t stopped a lot on the way up, but when he had, he’d been away from the car for minutes at a time.

“I’m sure your parents are real worried about you and want you home soon as possible. I’ll take you as far as the next town and we’ll find a nice cop to take you home.”

“You can’t!” the boy exclaimed.

“How’s that?”

“We’re... going somewhere.”

“Yeah, I got that from you sneaking into my car.”

“We can’t tell you why, but it’s really important that you don’t take us to the police.” His little face had a laughably serious look on it.

Stan glanced over at the girl, who was brushing away snow from her hair in tight, nervous motions. When she noticed him looking, she plastered on a friendly smile and tucked both hands behind her back.

So something was _definitely_ up with these two. He just had the puzzle out what. “This weather isn’t really right for standing around in. Let’s sit in the car.”

He opened the backseat door to clear enough space for one of the kids to sit. Turning your back to anyone was risky, but as long as he stayed aware of his surroundings, he’d be fine. The kids were whispering away, but they hadn’t moved from the back of the car. Stan had to let go of the baseball bat for a second to untangle the seat belt from the clothes pile.

“Where are you going?”

Stan hit his head against the roof and bit off a curse. The girl had managed to sneak up on him. How could a person move so quietly and talk so loudly?

“None of your business.”

“Maybe we’re heading the same way. We could make it a road trip!” she said with way more confidence than any stowaway had any right to. Seemed like she’d forgotten her earlier nervousness. Something niggled at Stan in the back of his mind.

“Not a chance, kid.”

The boy took the seat in the back. He’d dug a green duffel bag and a blue backpack out of the trunk and was holding them tightly against his chest. At least it wasn’t a polka-dot bindle. 

Little Miss Happy-Go-Lucky jumped into the front seat.

“Right,” Stan said the moment all the doors were shut. 

“Nice window decorations,” the girl said, pointing to the glittery stains on the windshield. “I wanted to make some of those for our car but everyone said it was a ‘terrible idea.’”

“Thanks.” After a beat. “Great. So, who are you working for and what do they want.” Always exploit the element of surprise. Although he had slightly lost it at this point. “You won’t get in trouble for telling me.”

The kids stared at him with blatant confusion. Stan tended to trust his instincts, and he didn’t really get a robbery bait vibe from these two, but better safe than sorry.

“We’re thirteen,” the boy said. “We’re not working for anyone.” 

“Plenty of thirteen-year-olds with jobs.” And that was all Stan was going to say on that subject. No need to traumatize these kids more than necessary. Or, well, that was an idea… Maybe what they needed was to be scared straight enough to run back to mommy.

The sensible thing to do would be dropping them off at the next police station. He had things to do – like doing his brother’s bidding like a sad dog. What was he in such a hurry for again?

“So, what’s your story, then?”

The boy started. “We- uh…” He made a few more false starts before the girl cut in.

“We’re looking for our uncle,” the girl said.

The boy flinched and started gesticulating for her to shut up. He stopped and tried to smile when he noticed Stan looking at him through the rear view mirror.

“And what, you thought he might be hiding in the trunk of my car?”

“No, silly!” She said it in a cheerful, casual tone. “We just don’t know where he lives yet, so we might as well go wherever you’re going and start looking there.”

“Well, that makes no sense.”

She shrugged. “It just seemed the quickest.”

“The quick- In _what_ world is _that_ the quickest way? You don’t even know where I’m heading.” To tell the truth, which he tried never to do, he wasn’t sure himself where he was headed.

This story was nonsense, which either meant these two were even dumber than they looked, or they had a secret to keep. The possibility that someone was using them as bait seemed less and less likely. If that was the case, they’d be stood on the side of the road waiting for well-meaning idiots to stop and ask if they were okay, and whoever they worked under wouldn’t wait several minutes to pounce.

“Could it be that you’re actually running _from_ something.” He’d been thirteen once, and wild and stupid as he’d been, he wouldn’t have crawled into a strange car in the middle of the night unless something _really_ serious had happened.

The girl frowned. “What? No-”

“That’s right!” the boy leaned between the front seats, voice cracking with nervousness. “We just to- need to put some distance between us and- here. Doesn’t really matter where we go.”

“And why can’t you just go to the cops?”

“Well, the reason for that is that they- this isn’t something they can help with.”

They really were desperate not to tell him what was actually going on. “You didn’t kill someone, did you? ‘Cause I don’t have time to get tangled in that sorta thing.”

“What?” The boy furrowed his brow like that was the dumbest thing he’d heard. Apparently he couldn’t hear himself talking. “Of course not. We’re not going to cause you any trouble. We just need a ride, okay?”

The girl had gone very quiet all of a sudden. She was looking straight ahead at the snowfall outside the windshield, chewing her lip. Stan couldn’t tell if she was still listening. The boy was looking straight at him, trying to stand still but twitching with nervous energy – or from leaning his full weight on his noodly arms.

There was no way to guess what they were running from without more info. But if they didn’t want to go to the cops, it was probably because they thought they’d just get sent back to whatever it was. That’s what any smart person would do with a pair of runaway kids. It was probably what Stan oughta do. Kids were stupid and overly dramatic, so whatever they’d ran away over probably wasn’t a big deal – a spat with a parent or a sibling, or having to eat vegetables before desert, or something.

But there was a possibility – no way of knowing how slim or broad – that they’d actually run from something messed up. If that was the case, could he really risk sending them back to it?

And if he couldn’t, what was he gonna do instead?

People tended to make decisions quickly, Stan had found, and then spend however much time they needed finding reasons to justify what they had already decided on. He liked cutting out as much humming and hawing as possible, once he knew what he was gonna do. “Fine. You can hitch a ride.”

The boy sat back down with a sigh.

“But I’m not a babysitter or a taxi. So, no complaining, or yelling, or asking to stop every five minutes for whatever dumb reason. Go it?”

“Got it,” the boy said.

The girl nodded. Weirdly, she seemed less cheery now than before Stan had agreed to let them come along. Maybe she was just tired. It was getting to be pretty late – for kids.

“For the record…” Stan started the car and rolled back on the road. “You really shouldn’t make a habit of getting into strange vehicles with people you don’t know. No way of knowing what kind of person’s driving.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Not that I’m gonna do anything to you. But you shouldn’t take my word for it. ‘Cause, I could easily be lying. Alright?” What was he going on about?

“We know that,” the girl said with a wave. “But this is different.”

“Different how?” Stan said but his voice was drowned out by a violent coughing fit from the backseat. “You alright there, champ?”

“Yeah. Me? Fine, yes. Hey, uh, mister, I don’t think we ever got your name. I’m- Tyrone and this is my sister...”

“Destiny Hope Clementine.” Back to smiley. This kid changed direction like a bouncing ball.

“Yeesh, your parents hate you both or something?”

“Hey!” the boy exclaimed. “Tyrone is a cool name.”

Destiny giggled.

Stan grinned at the rear view mirror. “Yeah, for a boxer, maybe. Not for a wimpy kid with noodle arms.”

“Haha, noodles…!”

Tyrone shot his sister a pouty glare. He crossed his tiny arms, then became self conscious and tucked them into his sides instead. “What’s your name, then? Mr. Normal.”

“Craig,” Stan said without missing a beat. Always safer to use a fake name. In this case, he was pretty sure he was committing some kind of crime by transporting to kids that weren’t his. Was it still kidnapping if the kids asked him to do it?

He noticed the girl looking at him with crossed arms and squinty eyes. “What?”

“I dunno. You just don’t look like a Craig to me.”

He snorted. “Yeah? What how do you figure that?”

Tyrone kicked the back of his sister’s seat. She effortlessly went on as though the backrest wasn’t shaking like a springboard. “I have future vision.” The kicking intensified. “And I predict that you’re going to tell us your real name when we’ve become best friends.”

Stan didn’t get the chance to even start processing that bizarre statement.

“I wonder what’s on the radio!” Tyrone half-shouted, throwing himself between the front seats. Fizzy voices and tunes filled the car as he rolled through the frequencies.

“Hey!” Stan slapped his hand away. “Don’t mess with that. I’ve got it how I want it. And sit down, before you make me crash.” He turned it to a clear signal rather than turning it off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Destiny gesticulating at the backseat.

By the time they rolled into the motel parking lot, the kids were pretty much asleep – which was a worrying level of trust to put in a stranger. Stan gave Destiny a gentle shake. She batted at his hand and muttered something. He briefly considered carrying her instead of forcing her to wake up, but immediately squashed the idea.

“I feel ya, kid, but you really don’t wanna sleep in the car in this kind of weather.” Never mind that Stan might’ve considered doing just that if he had been on his own.

Tyrone started awake when Stan opened the door. He looked around, eyes wide with terror. “Where are-?” His eyes fell on Stan and confusion quickly followed by recognition flittered across his face.

“Idaho,” Stan answered, even though he knew that that wasn’t exactly the question the kid had been asking.

He had expected to get more of a look from the night clerk when he rocked up to the front desk with two kids in tow. They were clean and wore new-looking clothes, while Stan looked like a dumpster made human. But either the guy didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Right, you’re two can share a bed. With how tiny you are, a whole bed to each of you would be a waste of money.”

Destiny was leaning on her forehead against the front desk. It reminded Stan of a sleeping horse. She gave him a thumbs up without looking up or opening her eyes. “Me and Dip-Dop can share.” How had _that_ nickname come about?

The room was drab but at least it was warm. The kids crawled on to one of the bed, arranging themselves head to toe with one another in the way of two people who’d done it many times before. It stung to see.

The last few days had been a tangled, uniquely painful nightmare. He’d’ve rather spent another day and a half tied up in the trunk of a car than suffer through arriving at his brother’s house, thinking that Ford might actually want to see him, only to be told to sail to the end of the Earth. But he wasn’t going to think about that.

And he wasn’t going to think about what a stupid thing he’d gotten himself talked into. Or what would happen if he was stopped by police with questions about the random kids in his car. Or what would happen if they ran into some of his old pals. Or where exactly he was going and for what.

He looked over at the other bed. From their breathing, they were already deep in sleep, real without a care in the world like. It didn’t add up. They seemed serious about getting away from whatever they were running from, but their clothes were nice and new and Destiny’s braces looked like a proper job. So whatever – or rather whoever had driven them to the point of running away was apparently very concerned with keeping up appearances.

The fact that they didn’t _look_ neglected wasn’t that weird. But the fact that they had felt like they had to run away _and_ were scared of being taken to the authorities, but blindly trusted the first random bum they came across, now that was puzzle.

Stan wasn’t going to be able to crack it just by thinking on it, so he might as well quit it for the day.

He leaned over the side of the bed and dug a battered paperback out of his bag. The last chapter had ended with Miss Caroline meeting the snooty rich broad engaged to Lord Silfverschiold for the first time. Exciting stuff.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wkh vwduv nqrz wkh ixwxuh


	2. Western Idaho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uneventful morning of breakfast and idle chit-chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure (or, well, the opposite), I decided not to include certain tags for spoiler reasons. Nothing that would affect the rating or warnings, just plot details.

His dreams were disjointed and vague, but one single thing stood out in its unfitting clearness. _Something was there, watching him through the fog. It was in his dream, but it wasn’t part of him._

He could hear voices from outside his sleeping mind, like music playing in another room.

“It’s gonna be okay. I mean, it’s gotta be easier to find out what is going to happen if we don’t have to be all hidingy as well.”

“Maybe. But we have to be careful. And you can’t start blabbing like that again.”

“Psh! I’m always super careful.”

Well, at least kid was trying to look out for his sister, even if he didn’t have the brawn or nerves to do it well.

_Something was watching._

_“This is your chance to finally do something worthwhile with your life.”_

—

“Boop!”

Stan was jolted awake by a finger poking him in the nose. He snapped into a seated position, fighting the urge to fling his arms about him. “The H, kid!?”

Destiny smiled at him – ha, that was a funny sentence. She was balancing on the edge of the bed on her knees, feet hanging free in the air. “I forgot to ask you last night. What’s your favorite color?”

“My favorite-” Stan looked at his watch and groaned. “It’s five in the morning!” He laid back down with enough force to cause the rickety bed to squeak in protest.

Destiny tilted violently to the side but managed to right herself with some arm flapping. “I don’t have a watch,” she said, heartlessly cheerful. “If you tell me your favorite color I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

Stan glared up at the spots in the ceiling. “I don’t have a favorite color.”

“What!?”

Stan nearly fell of the bed. “Aaah, volume!”

Over on the other bed, Tyrone- no, that was _not_ going to work. It was somehow more silly than ‘Destiny’. _Ty_ gave a yelp and jumped clean off the mattress. He held his chest like he was having a heart attack.

“Sorry,” Destiny said, and whisper-shouted, “What? Everyone has a favorite color!”

Stan tucked his arms under his head. “Not me.”

Destiny stared at him with a worried frown. “But… If you _had_ to chose?”

“I’m telling you, I couldn’t care less about color.” Why the heck was she getting so upset over this?

“She’s not going to let it go,” Ty said. “Just make something up.”

Destiny pouted. “Don’t make something up. It’s important.” And she looked like she meant it too, although for what Stan couldn’t imagine.

He closed his eyes to try to fall back asleep. But instead he thought about colors. Red was the color of the Stanleymobile – both the best thing he owned and a sad reminder of the kind of life he lead. The ocean was all kinds of colors and held most of his good memories, but those had Ford all over them.

“What about yellow?” Destiny said. “Sunny, funny yellow. Everyone loves yellow!”

Stan kept his eyes closed. “Eh.”

“Orange?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, no. Traffic cones.”

“Green?”

Stan didn’t speak for a moment. “Don’t mind it,” he said, to his own genuine surprise.

“I’ll take it!” She leapt of the bed and the springs winged hollowly. “Good night, whatever-your-real-name-is.”

“Craig,” Stan remembered easily.

He relaxed back into the pillow. After some time of floating at the edge of ‘wakeness, the question of what his next step oughta be swam to the forefront of his mind.

The big issue with deciding where to go was that he needed to commit to _something_ first. Just thinking about Ford and his dumb journal pissed him off, but it wasn’t like he had much of anything else on the docket. He had brought everything he wasn’t fine with leaving in New Mexico with him, so there was no reason for him to head back there – especially not with Rico having it out for him.

If he was going to sail away, he’d need a boat. Getting the money to buy one was going to take way too long, if he’d even be able to hold on to enough cash at one time. There was Salty Pyry’s old offer, if it still stood – if he was even in Newark after all this time. The old Finn might’ve sailed on his un-merry way years ago.

Either way, a cross-country road trip might give him enough time to decide if he was going to sail to the end of the world or throw Ford’s dumb book into the harbor.

Eventually, he was disturbed by light from the window hitting him in the face. He sat up, glaring at the sunshine like it had personally offended him.

“Good morning!” said a chirpy voice.

The kids were sitting cross legged on the other bed, dressed and alert, playing some kind of card game. When had they found time to sleep?

“Morning,” Stan muttered, running a hand over his face. “Either of you want the shower before I use all the hot water?”

“I’ve already had one,” Destiny said, placing a pair of cards in front of her. “And Dip-Sauce doesn’t shower.”

“Wow. Gross.” Not that Stan had been much better at that age. Or was, now.

“I shower! I- I just don’t like doing it more than necessary. I’m a busy guy.”

Stan cast a pointed look down at the card game. “I can tell. I said you could ride with me. I didn’t say you could stink up my car.”

“Your car already smells terrible,” Ty muttered, slipping off the bed.

Stan crossed his arms. “What was that?”

Ty froze, looking at Stan with wide eyes. Man, it almost looked like he was going to stand up for himself for a second there. “Nothing!” he squeaked and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

—

The weather had gotten better over night – clear skies and little wind. Cleaning the windows of ice was way less of an operation with two extra pairs of hands helping out and Stan felt a bit strange when he sat down behind the wheel without the familiar ache in his fingers. The purple stains still refused to come off, but they had gotten a bit lighter. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

He drove south-east, Utah-wards. The fact that getting to Jersey would involve going through at least two states he was permanently banned in was a bridge he could cross when the time came.

They didn’t get very far before Destiny let out a loud gasp. “Friar Fry’s Potato Parish? I thought they all closed! Ooh, they have a drive-thru.”

Ty shushed her.

Stan kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Nice try, gremlin. We ain’t stopping.”

“But what about breakfast?”

“Breakfast,” Stan scoffed. “How fancy.”

“Aw c’mon, you’ve gotta be hungry too.”

“Not even a little.”

“Pretty please?”

“I don’t do restaurants where you have to pay for the food before you get it.” It made it pretty tricky to dine and dash.

“Pleeease!”

He made the fatal mistake of glancing over at the passenger seat. Destiny was looking back at him with eyes too bright and a smile too wide for this early in the morning. He heaved a sigh. “Ugh, fine! If it’ll shut your yap. Gotta get gas anyway.”

“Yay! Whoops.” She clapped both hands over her mouth. “Yap shutting, now,” she whispered, eyes still smiling. Stan couldn’t quite muster up the right level of irritation.

Minutes later, staring down into a plate hash browns, he realised that he had been played. This Destiny girl was adorable, and fully aware of it. Stan was no sap, but it was hard to say no under the full blast of that enthusiasm.

He’d initially had her pegged as kind of helpless, but she had charms and knew how to use them. Still, though… Too trusting, and not enough sense to be wary of the dangers in the world. He looked up at Ty, who was adjusting the blue bag wedged between him and the wall – he’d insisted on bringing it with him from the car. This one had the opposite problem, twitchy, nervous and easy to get a rise out off.

A different kind of realisation stemmed from a glance inside his thread bare wallet. He was gonna have to drum up some money before too long, regardless of what he decided to do. There was one obvious way, now that he was back in Idaho, but Stan had promised himself that he wasn’t gonna subject himself to that particular humiliation ever again.

The kids wolfed down their meals, faces going pink from shovelling too hot food in their mouths. Ty was pulling a series of ridiculous faces, eyes tearing up, while Destiny was blowing steam out her mouth like a locomotive.

—

  


—

Stan looked away, covering his mouth to keep from laughing.

“I think it starts with either an S or an R,” Destiny said, pausing only for a second before continuing eating.

“What does?” Stan asked.

“Your real name.”

It was almost nostalgic, hearing a good old fashioned cold reading. “Nope. My name starts with a C, ‘cause it’s Craig.” His face was passive, not giving anything away.

He’d expected her to throw out another pair of letters until she struck gold.

“Mmm, no, pretty sure it’s S or R.” The table shook. “Ow.”

“Hey, Craig!” Ty shouted. “Have you ever had an alien encounter?” Well, that was about as subtle as a eighteen-wheeler doing a U-turn.

“Sure I have.”

There must have been something in Stan’s body language that had given him away with the letters. He’d met people who were eerily good at reading people, but none of them had been a freaking 13-year-old kid.

He made a sweeping motion through the air. “I’ve got a whole interstellar fleet who wants me dead.”

Ty got a notepad out and started writing something down. “Wait.” He squinted at Stan. “Are you making a joke?”

Stan burst out laughing. “Your face! Of course I’m joking. Aliens aren’t real, you knucklehead.”

Ty drew an angry line across whatever he’d written and shoved the notepad back in the bag. “They are too! We’ve actually been to a real UFO.” He crossed his arms with a smug expression.

Stan mirrored his pose. “Wowie,” he said with a flat tone. “So was this in a dream or some crabby road-side attraction?”

“It was real! Our great-uncle S-shh… Ow!” Ty turned to glare at his sister. “I got it!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Stan’s curiosity was piqued. So they had some kind of relative at least. He was leaning pretty heavily towards it being an actual great-uncle, ‘cause an unrelated family friend would surely just be called an uncle, no matter how old he was?

“This great-uncle of yours, what’s he like?”

The kids looked nervous.

“He’s nice,” Destiny said with a tight smile.

“What does he do for a living?”

The kids shared a look and Ty shook his head subtlety – which didn’t work very well when Stan was looking straight at them.

So this was some kind of weird old man who’d talked these kids into believing in aliens, and made them wary of talking about him to other people. Was he part of whatever they were running from?

Stan sighed. “Fine. Be like that. See if I care.” Seemed like he wasn’t going to get anything out of them through a direct approach. Time to change the subject. “So, what makes you so sure that my real name starts with S or R?”

Destiny touched a finger to her nose and winked at him. “I told you: future vision.”

The table shook again.

“Will you quit kicking your sister!” Stan snapped, voice louder than he‘d meant it.

The kids blinked at him. It felt like the whole restaurant was listening in, and Stan had to remind himself that to the casual observer, the three of them looked more or less like a regular family having a spat.

“It’s not a big deal,” Destiny said. “We’re just rough housing.”

“She literally just kicked me! Way harder too!” Ty complained.

“Haha, yeah. I did.”

“That’s different.”

The kids shared a look. Ty furrowed his brow and Destiny raised her hands in a shrug. Then she grinned and Ty’s frown turned from questioning to disapproving, which made Destiny’s smile grow even wider. Stan gulped down some lukewarm coffee and didn’t allow unwanted memories to surface.

“Well anyway,” he begun, with no real idea of how he was going to continue. “I actually go by Hal in this state, so if you hear anyone call me that, you better not correct them.”

“How many fake names do you have?” Ty asked, squinting at him.

“As many as I need.”

Ty reached into the bag and wrote something down, once again utterly failing to be sneaky. Stan decided then he was going to have to take look in that notepad when he got the chance.

“Right. I gotta go fill up the car. Let’s roll out, ankle-biters.”

“Oh! Before we go…” Destiny slipped out of her seat. “Stay there.”

She pulled out a polaroid camera from inside her sweater. At least Stan assumed it was a camera. It was sleeker – and pinker – than any camera he’d ever seen.

“Cheese!” she said and snapped a picture before either of them had the time to react.

“Uh, Sis, are you sure taking a bunch of pictures right now is a good idea. Considering, you know…” Ty drifted off with an insinuating glance towards Stan.

Stan pointed at Ty with his fork. “Just gonna point out, if you’re planning on murdering or robbing me, evidence is gonna be the least of your problems.”

Destiny shook the photo a few times before looking at it. “Aww, you guys look amazing.” She turned the picture over, showing the two of them squinting at the light. Stan had some grated potato in his cheek, and Ty’s mouth was hanging open.

They stepped outside and Stan got in the car to move it over to the gas station across the parking lot. The kids ran off the the station store before he could say otherwise.

As he watched the numbers on the meter tick up, doubts and second guesses crept in. There was still time to drop the kids off at a police station and get out of dodge before anyone could ask who he was and why they’d been with him.

The cops would take them back to their parents, or whoever had a piece of paper that said they were responsible for them. If those people weren’t fit to take care of them, the kids could just tell the authorities and- Get laughed off and sent back anyway, probably. Stan leaned back against the car with a sigh.

The gas station was fairly busy in the late morning. Travelers and truckers getting ready for another day of driving. Stan fit right in among them, just another dull face along the road, forgotten by everyone whose path he crossed just as soon as he forgot them.

The pair of beefcakes with terrible haircuts, gray jumpsuits and geeky sci-fi eye patches stuck out like a set of sore thumbs. Stan watched them with lazy interest. Weirdos weren’t exactly uncommon in places like this, but these two moved with a purpose that didn’t look right. They were craning their necks, studying the people at the station with silent intensity.

It could be unrelated.

But Stan didn’t usually have that kind of luck.

He looked over at the store, half expecting the kids to come back out just at that moment, because, again, luck didn’t like Stan Pines. The tank was full enough, so he stopped the pump and put the nozzle back in its holster. For a second he worried that it might look suspicious for him to start walking towards the store, until it hit him that, oh yeah, people actually paid for gas sometimes.

He felt the tingle of a glare at his back, and was careful to keep his pace hurried in the way of someone who was just eager to get back on the road. The bell jingled too loudly in the quiet morning. Stan slowed to pretend to look at the magazines. The pair of bad haircuts skulked about the parking space, definitely looking for someone.

Ty rounded the corner at the end of the aisle. He gave Stan an awkward wave.

“I think there might be some familiar faces outside,” Stan muttered, keeping his eyes on the magazine he’d picked up to look more inconspicuous. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ty look outside, confused at first.

“I don’t... “ Then his eyes went wide.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Bathroom.”

“Find the backdoor and head out that way. I’ll bring the car around. Don’t worry if I don’t turn up immediately, but if you see those two, you scram.” He didn’t know where the backdoor was, but the kids could probably figure that one out on their own.

The brought the magazine to the till. When he threw it down he realized that what he’d picked up was a magazine on furniture and that stuff. How anyone could come up with enough things to say about chairs and sofas to fill a whole magazine Stan couldn’t imagine. There was a door behind the till – definitely the back room.

He paid for the magazine and the gas, sensing more than seeing the kids sneaking past the cashier. “Hey, bud.” He leaned against the corner and flashed his best sales-grin. “You know of any good- uh, furniture stores around here?”

The cashier looked dazedly at him, clearly not equipped to deal with deviations from the typical customer-cashier script at this time in the morning. “I dunno. Don’t really buy a lot of furniture.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Stan reached up to scratch the back of his head. “Just been thinking maybe it’s something I oughta get… in to.”

“Uh huh.”

Well, making a fool of himself certainly was one way of keeping the cashier’s attention away from the door inching open behind him. Stan opened the magazine to a random page. “Hey, would you say this thing would look better in, um, green?”

The tired cashier actually looked down at the sorta macaroni shaped armchair Stan’s finger had landed on. “What kind of green?”

“Y’know… Green? Like, grass and trees stuff?”

“I mean what _shade_ of green? Are we talking light or dark, cold or warm?”

“Uh… Dark and stormy typa green.” Stan gritted his teeth at how clunky he sounded.

The guy nodded thoughtfully, like Stan had said something that made sense. The door behind him had shut moments ago. Stan really didn’t need to still be standing here.

“I think-”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for your help. Go and have a good one.” Stan grabbed the magazine and made for the exit. The door hadn’t shut behind him before the beefnerds were up in his face.

“Good day, sir. We are from the government and we are searching for a pair of highly dangerous fugitives,” said Bowlcut.

The other one – who Stan dubbed Side-Stripes – handed him a weirdly shiny piece of card. It was a photograph of some kind of carnival or fair. The picture was crowded, but at the center of it was a pair of familiar faces.

“What? Freaky Cat Man?” Stan said, pointing to a weird looking man to the left of the kids. There was something familiar about that guy, but that wasn’t important.

“The children,” Side-Stripes clarified.

Stan snorted. “Ah yeah, I see it now. The murderous intent in their eyes. The pure blood thirst in their chubby cheeks. Are you sure two guys will be enough to handle them?”

“Ah yes, humor. Very popular these days,” said Bowlcut. “You may joke, sir. But these children must be apprehended as soon as possible, for the safety of this great nation that we are all very proud to live in.”

“Well, I ain’t seen ‘em.” Stan said, frisbeeing the photo back at the pair. “Lucky too. Probably wouldn’t be standing here if I were to run into _dangerous criminals_ like that.” He tucked the magazine under his arm and rounded the pair to return to his car.

He rolled the window down before driving away. “Good luck with those scary children, government dweebs!” he called, punctuating his sentence a boisterous laugh.

He drove like he was heading for the exit road, but was entirely focused on trying to peer around the back of the store. Ty’s brown cap poked around the corner for an instant before drawing back. Stan slowed the car and the kids got the back door open and jumped in without waiting for Stan to come to a full stop.

“Heads down.” Stan sped back up, taking the exit road and continuing towards the highway. He glanced in the rear view mirrors several times, but it didn’t look like they were being followed. “Alright, I think coast’s clear.”

The kids popped out of the foot space. Destiny crawled into the front seat and buckled up. 

“Haha, that was fun! Why did we do that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Stan said.

He looked into the rear view mirror but Ty was kneeling in the backseat to peer back through the rear window. “Those are the people you’re running from? Gonna tell me who they are?”

Destiny look back and forth between the two of them, confused. “What people?”

“It’s…” Ty said, turning to sit the right way. “It’s safer for you not to know.”

Stan snorted. “I appreciate the concern, but I’d feel a whole deal safer if I knew what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Ty flipped open his notepad and started writing frenetically. He ripped the page and folded it before handing it to his sister. She read it and frowned confusedly. “How do you know they’re-” She was interrupted by Ty pointing to a certain part of the page. “But how did they know-?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s because we used the-”

Ty made a sharp, interrupting noise, probably gesturing to Stan. “That’s what I think, but until we know for sure we can’t make any assumptions.”

Destiny’s looked more and more stressed out. She tried smiling, but it was wobbly at best. “But it probably was, right? So if we don’t- do that again, it’ll be fine!”

Ty was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, probably.” He sounded hesitant at best.

“So, what are they, some kind of cult?” Stan cut in. “This got something to do with that UFO uncle of yours?”

Again, the kids wouldn’t answer.

Stan didn’t believe for a second that those two were 'from the government’. The silly costumes, trying to kidnap little kids and calling them ‘dangerous’, and talking like a bunch of weirdos – there was something culty about all that. So was that it? These kids’ parents were part of some weird religion and the kids had decided that they’d be safer on the road than with their family?

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but being all secretive about whatever those people are isn’t gonna help you any. Did _they_ tell you you can’t go to the cops?”

“No.” Ty said with finality. He flipped through the pages of his notepad and clicked his pen a couple of times. After a pause. he said, “Speaking of cults, have you ever been in one?”

“Just gonna change the subject, huh?”

“I already said that we can’t tell you, so… uh, that’s that.”

It hit Stan then. How had they been able to track the kids down to this exact service stop?

This was the same way Stan had taken when he was heading up from New Mexico. Was it possible that the kids had gotten in somewhere around here, and had been in his trunk for, what, five hours without him noticing?

After a moment’s silence, Ty spoke again. “So, have you?” 

It was funny that the kid wasn’t letting the subject drop. Almost like he wasn’t just deflecting Stan’s own questions. “Been in a cult? Oh, yeah, I lost a whole summer to a mumbo jumbo spirit healing camp in Florida, just ‘cause I forgot where I parked my car.”

After a beat, “What?”

Stan smirked. “It’s safer for you not to know,” he said with a mocking imitation of Ty’s voice.

Ty didn’t respond, but Stan could sense the kid fretting in the seat behind him, and was happy to leave him to stew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> d vpdoo ilvk lq d elj srqg


	3. Southern Idaho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal Forester is back in town, and he's ready to make a fool out of himself for money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun looking for interesting things in Idaho on Google Maps. Great place names include Snake River, Twin Falls, Hand Place and ATOMIC CITY.

He’d gotten used to driving alone, with nothing but the radio for company. Suddenly having a car full of nosy, noisy kids made for a shocking contrast. Destiny seemed to know every single song that came on the radio by heart and the only thing that could stop her from singing along to _every single one_ was to keep her talking about whatever topic popped into her head.

Ty was less chatty, spending most of the day writing things down in his notepad, handing his sister the occasional note, and going green in the face when he constant looking down made him car sick. Once in a while he’d throw Stan a question about if he’d ever met or seen or heard or smelled some random weird thing. Stan would answer with a question of his own about the jumpsuits or Uncle UFO, which Ty would not answer.

About midday, Destiny insisted on switching seats with her brother. After a while a soft ‘click-clack’ noise started up in the back seat. At first Stan couldn’t imagine what it could be. He had to actually look back to see what she was doing.

“You brought knitting needles with you when you ran away from home?” he said, barely believing his own eyes.

“No duh. You never know when you need something knitted.”

“If you say so, kid.”

They could’ve made it through Idaho before stopping for the night, but Stan was pretty much out of cash. As it turned out, two kids plus one adult needed way more food than a single adult with a good tolerance for hunger pains. After actually paying for gas, on top of everything else, he thought again about the option he didn’t want to consider. He’d sworn to himself that he wasn’t ever going to endure that _specific_ humiliation ever again. But what was another broken promise in a life made up of them?

The sun sat right at the horizon for what felt like ages. At the opposite end of the sky, stars had started to peak out. The lights from the small town of Nillwhere ought to appear over the low landscape any second now.

The sky flashed white, quickly followed by a teeth clattering thunder clap, and then the sky burst open. Within seconds the road was shining with rain.

“That’s weird,” Ty said. “That came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, changes in weather. Real freaky stuff,” Stan said dryly.

“It’s 19 degrees right now. It shouldn’t be possible for it to rain.”

“That’s very exact. Wait. You brought a _thermometer_ for running away from home?”

Ty was quiet for a beat. “No… I mean, it’s pretty useful having a thermometer around.”

Stan laughed. “Sure. Keeping a record over local weather is _vital_ stuff when you’re on the run.” He didn’t give Ty a chance to respond. “We’re almost ready to stop for the night. Nillwere is just up ahead.”

“Nillwhere?” Ty echoed. “Why are we stopping there? Have you been there before? Do you know anyone there?”

“Gah, with the questions! We’re just stopping in a normal, boring hick town where nothing special has ever happened and nobody worth noticing has ever been. Don’t worry about it. Those weirdo space-cult types aren’t gonna find us either. I took one heck of a detour to get here.”

The rain had stopped again before they reached Nillwhere. The town hadn’t changed much since he was there last time. He parked outside the No-Such Motel, which looked just the same, except for the once worn-red sign having a new coat of paint.

The kids got out of the car, looking around with curiosity. Not that there was much to see. Nillwhere was a gray, featureless little town whose only claim to fame was a slightly weirdly shaped rock. The whole town was covered in road dust, like some old piece of furniture left untouched for decades. In the waning, red light, it looked like it might be on another planet.

The clerk was a woman in her 50’s. Her face went from uneasy, when Stan entered, to relieved when she spotted the kids. She was probably thinking that there was no way Stan was someone to worry about when he had two kids with him. The joke was on her, since Stan _was_ just the kind of person she was scared of.

Once in the room, Stan unzipped his jacket and tossed the food he’d picked up when they stopped for lunch on the bed.

“Did you steal all that?” Ty asked with obvious disapproval. It set Stan’s teeth on edge.

He grinned. “Oh yeah. This old jacket doesn’t do a lot of good against the cold. but it fits a half-a-dozen breadloves. If you and your sister are going to stay alive on your own, you’re gonna have to get over the kindergarten morality bull. It’s not gonna do you any good when nobody else is living by it.”

Ty frowned.

“I’m sure loads of people would give you food if you just asked.” Destiny was sitting on one of the beds, swinging her legs nervously.

Stan was at on the fence between irritation and amusement. On one hand, he didn’t need anybody to look down their nose at him and tsk-tsking over how he lived his life, especially not a pair of kids who had no idea how the real world worked. On the other hand, it was hysterical how naive these two were.

“In that case, all I’m doing is saving everyone some time. I don’t have to ask and they don’t have to hand it over.”

He slipped into the bathroom before either of them could give a retort. After taking care of business, he stood and glared at his reflection. Hal Forester had been one of his more put-together personas, and he really wasn’t looking the part right now, with his un-kept hair and threadbare clothes. At least he could shave.

He went and got his shaving kit, leaving the bathroom door open so he could talk to the kids.

“I’m heading to Jersey from here. How’s that sound to you?”

“Why Jersey?” Ty said.

“What are you, a reporter? If you wanna shake those weirdos you could do a heck of a lot worse.”

“I think that sounds good,” Destiny said. “Our uncle used to live in Jersey. Maybe he’ll live there again.”

Ty lowered his voice, but not enough for Stan not to hear him. Kid really was terrible at being sneaky. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Wait, you actually are looking for your uncle? I thought that was some bull you made up on the spot.”

The kids were quiet for long enough that Stan stopped shaving to look out the door. They were huddled up with Ty’s notepad, writing messages to each other. Was there a single question these two would answer without a full committee meeting?

“Never mind. You’re insufferable.”

He finished shaving, washing his face one last time. Somehow he still looked grimy, even though he’d had a shower that morning. Whatever, he still had the same face, didn’t he? People would buy that Hal Forester had hit a rough patch, if anyone around here even remembered him.

He dug a nearly-dry marker out of his back pocket to add the mole on his chin. The kids seemed to have finished up their little conference and had nothing better to do than to look at him as he crossed the room.

Stan went to his bag for the final touch – a pair of flimsy metal frames with the completely wrong prescription. His vision swam slightly after he put them on. Nothing else to do but go humiliate himself for money. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out for a moment. You-”

“Where are you going?” Destiny interrupted.

Stan slipped his jacket on. “Just gonna have a chat with an old pal. You two sit tight. Keep the door locked and curtains shut. And if anyone weird shows up, call the front desk and pull that scared little kids act.” After a pause, he added. “Have some bread.”

“Don’t you think you should brush your hair?” Destiny tilted her head to one side.

Stan wiggled his fingers. “I have.”

Destiny gave him a pitying look. “I am a firm believer in personal style choices and that everyone is perfect just the way the are.” She interweaved her fingers, pressing her forefingers together like a double finger-gun, which she used to point at him. “But your hair looks like a ball of yarn that’s gone through a mixer.”

Stan huffed dismissively. But thinking about it, maybe that was the problem. Hal was supposed to be more put together. He was the kinda guy who _would_ brush his hair if it got this long. “I don’t got a hairbrush either way.”

“Psh! You think this happened on accident?” Destiny ran her hand through her hair – or tried to. It got stuck halfway. “Huh. Forgot to brush last night. Anyway, sit down and let an artist get to work.”

She hopped over to her and Ty’s bags. Stan sighed like he was feeling more put-upon than he actually did, and sat down on the foot of his bed. “Alright, but make it quick. I’ve got a time to stick to.”

Destiny settled behind him and started attacking his hair with a pink hairbrush.

“So, does this ‘friend’ of yours know you’re coming?” Ty squinted suspiciously. “Because I don’t remember you making any phone calls on the way here.”

“What is with you and asking useless- Ow! Sweet Moses, are you _trying_ to scalp me?”

“Sorry! _Wow,_ this is more tangled up than it looks.” Destiny went on a little gentler as she teased out the knots in Stan’s hair. He was surprised too, since he thought he’d done an alright job with his fingers. Maybe there was something to be said for hair brushes.

“What’s your friends?”

Stan gave Ty a dirty look. “How about you start answering some of my questions before you expect me to return the favor?”

Ty fell silent for a while. Stan didn’t actually expect him to speak. “We can’t say why, but it’s really important that we find out where our uncle lives. It might be New Jersey, but we’re not sure.”

“‘Cause he’s gonna help you deal with these jumpsuit freaks who are following you?”

“Well…” Ty’s voice went up a bit. “In a sense.”

“In what sense? No, let me guess, you can’t say.”

Ty looked down at his notepad, likely just to avoid eye contact.

Stan wondered if dealing with kids was always this exhausting, or if it was just the ones who’d run away from home under mysterious circumstances. “At least tell me he’s not got anything to do with this cult-thing. Or your crazy great-uncle.”

“Great-uncle Fff- Our great-uncle isn’t crazy!” Ty snapped. “He’s a world famous scientist and a leading mind in his field.”

“Right, so why isn’t he helping you with all this?”

Stan had strong suspicions that this UFO-hunter, or whatever he was, had a hand in this whole cult-thing – he might even be the founder, and ‘great-uncle’ was just a stand-in for ‘father’ or ‘great revered leader’. It wasn’t _that_ strange if the kids still liked him, or thought he was a ‘nice’ person, even after they’d realized that the cult itself was bad for them. If Stan’s summer in Florida had taught him anything it was that breaking away from mind control was tricky business.

Ty didn’t have an answer for him, but if he wasn’t making excuses, it might at least mean he would mull Stan’s words over.

“We’ve never met him – our other uncle, I mean. We don’t know that much about him. I’m not even sure he’s that good of a person.”

“I think he’s nice!” Destiny protested, and after a pause she added, “If we met him.”

“You think everyone’s nice.”

“I do not. I just don’t get as judgy as you do.” She stopped brushing Stan’s hair so she could waggle the brush in Ty’s direction.

Ty shoves his hands into his pockets. _“Anyway,_ whether he’s nice or not doesn’t really change anything. We still need to get to him.”

A serious kind of silence settled over the room. Stan somehow felt that things were starting to make sense, at the same time as they got more confusing. After a while, he broke the quiet. “His name is Ernie. He’s got a place here in town. Are you almost done back there, kid? I really gotta get going.”

“Wait!” Destiny jumped of the bed and barreled over to the green duffle bag. Stan sighed and leaned forward to bury his face in his hand. If he was already this drained, he wasn’t going to be able to get through tonight.

He felt Destiny get back on the bed, standing to reach the back of his head over his hunched back. “And the piece of resistance, ta-dah!” She pulled his hair into a ponytail. 

Stan would’ve grumbled more, if it wasn’t actually quite helpful. “Are you done?”

“Are any of us ever done? Life’s a beautiful journey, full of possibilities.” She patted his back.

“Oh, it’s a journey all right,” Stan muttered, rising from the bed.

He wondered how long it’d be before Destiny learned that life wasn’t all sunshine and flowers. The sooner the better, really. If these two were gonna survive, they needed to be sharp, careful and mistrustful. A delusionally optimistic outlook didn’t do anybody any good.

He looked back one last time before stepping out the door. Destiny gave him two thumbs up and a bright grin.

Stan frowned. “Remember what I said. Stay put. And don’t let anyone in.”

“We’re not stupid,” Ty said.

“Good one, kid.”

—

The Raging Bull had gotten itself a new neon sign since the last time. It was probably meant to be a bull, but the linework was so confusing that it looked more like a shapeless blob with something that _might_ be a muzzle on one side and a pair of too-big horns sticking out at a weird angle.

The bar was remarkably crowded for such a small town, but that was because almost all the patrons were out-of-towners. Some faces were familiar; some were new or maybe just forgotten.

He went straight to the bar and a fresh-faced, stocky bartender he hadn’t seen before. The kid peered at him through glasses that were a smidge too small, probably trying to figure out if he’d seen Stan before.

“Tell Ernie Hal Forester wants a word with him.”

The bartender took half a step to the side and opened a door behind the bar. “Hey, Ernie! Some guy wants you.”

Ernie was a tiny guy with wiry muscles and oil slick black hair. He’d gotten rid of the mustache he used to have. “Hal fucking Forester. How long has it been? I thought you were dead.”

Stan laughed. “No such luck. How’s business?”

“Terrible. Always terrible. Nudge nudge.”

“Terrible enough that you’re still holding games?”

Ernie’s eyes lit up. “You’re up for going a couple of rounds?”

“If you’ll make it worth my while.”

Ernie gestured for him to round the bar and follow him into the office. “Anything to get to see you get thrown on your ass.”

“Before anything else, I’m not wearing the fucking hat.”

“Sure, sure, if you’re fine with being paid half.”

The warehouse behind the Raging Bull was a smallish, half-underground building with a high ceiling and thick air. The floor was covered in sand and the animal stench – both from the patrons and the actual animals – made breathing a chore. The mystery-stain in the ceiling was still there.

Stan adjusted the stupid cowboy hat one last time before the rickety gate was pulled away and the bull leapt into the ring. The fence was mainly for show – the shouting and moving of the audience did most of the work scaring the animal towards the center. On slow days, there had been a couple of ‘close calls’, as Ernie preferred calling them.

The bull bucked and spun like a topp, making the world to smear into an incomprehensible blurr. “That’s all you got, you hunka third rate beef?” It was a hard thing getting enough air in his lungs to hurl quips, but it was exactly that kind of thing these idiots were here for.

He felt his blood pushing up against one side of his body, and he couldn’t hear the crowd anymore.

Inevitably, he started slipping beyond what he could adjust for. All he could do was make the fall as slow as possible. Time moved either too quick or too slow, he couldn’t tell. Then the bull threw itself in other direction and Stan was suddenly leaning right into the force trying to drag him to the ground. For a second he thought he’d be able to correct, but next thing he knew, he tumbled into the sand and was rolling away from the still raging animal without consciously deciding to move.

Someone grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him away and up. The world came back into focus. He could hear the roar of voices, could see the dirty white lights shining in his eyes.

“You’re alright, Hal?” Ernie slapped his back.

Stan breathed deeply, straightening out carefully. “Peachy.” The awful cowboy hat had fallen off at some point. Hopefully the bull had trampled it to pieces.

His backside thrummed after hitting the ground three times in short order. Driving all day tomorrow wasn’t going to be enjoyable.

“You look like you could use a drink.” 

Stan hadn’t been planning on sticking around for long after he’d gotten his money, but he needed to stay safely on Ernie's good side. “I always do.” He pulled the glasses out of his front pocket and put them on – like a mask he didn’t like being without for too long.

Ernie laughed and slapped him on the back again.

Stan still felt unsteady on his feet as he climbed the stairs but he pressed on, ignoring the aches already settling in. He just needed to get his money and then he could crash into bed.

There was only a handful of patrons in the bar, but they had all crowded together near the back. Stan’s first guess was a brawl, which he normally wouldn’t have minded a look in at, but right now he was adrenaline’d out for the evening.

But there weren’t enough shouts and punching for it to be a fight.

Alarm bells went off in his head and as he elbowed and shouldered his way through the crowd, he realized that it was a billion times worse than anything he could have imagined.

—

—

“Kids!?”

Ty and Destiny were sitting by of a table, each with a bottle of soda. They looked at him like they’d been busted with something worse.

“Oh, um,” Ty said, already sweating. “Hi, Hal.”

“Oh, hello. Hi to you, too. Fancy running into you here. What the heck are you doing?”

“Making friends,” Destiny said brightly.

“Yeah,” said a built guy with a terrible beard and an objectively unpleasant smirk. “We’re just making friends.”

Stan’s entire body cringed, before kicking right into fight-mode. He took a step towards Bad Beard, curling his limbs into a fighting stance. “You wanna say that again, pal?”

Another guy slapped Bad Beard over the back of the head. “Don’t say it like that. That sounded, like, unbelievably creepy.”

“They walked in here after you and Ernie went outside,” the bartender explained. “Said they were friends of yours.”

Stan sputtered. “And you just let ‘em in? Hold on, did you follow me, _immediately_ after I told you to stay put?”

The kids had the decency to look sheepish.

“What was I gonna do, tell ‘em to wait outside? It’s freezing.”

Ernie slid through the crowd with the ease of a ghost. “Who have we got here?” Stan didn’t think he’d ever seen such a soppy expression on Ernie’s face. “Friends of yours, Hal?”

Stan closed his eyes for the briefest moment to gather the mental strength do deal with all this bull. Looking around, the thugs didn’t seem like they were about to pounce – not that that was any reason to assume they wouldn’t.

He went to stand behind the twins’ chairs, placing a hand atop each of their shoulders. “Yeah. Ty and Dess. Little _rascals_ snuck after me.” He squeezed their shoulders a smidge roughly, speaking through gritted teeth. “After I _told_ them to _stay at the motel._ I’m gonna have to take a rain check on that drink so I can get these two in bed before it gets too late.”

—

—

“Aww,” Destiny moaned. “We were just about to do one of our twin dances.”

“No. No, we weren’t,” Ty said, face getting pink and sweaty like a cheap slice of ham.

“C’mon, Bro-Bro, don’t be shy.”

“We would love to see your little dance,” said a gaunt, tired-looking drifter from the back of the crowd. More people were heading in from the warehouse. This was quickly getting out of hand.

“Kid doesn’t wanna do it, no one can make him,” Stan said. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget about this night and this dumb town. Was that really so much to ask?

Ernie placed his hands on his knees and crouched in a condescending way. “How about if you got a dollar?”

Destiny leaned closer to Ty and hissed, “Is that a lot?”

At this point, Stan had become so used to these kids spouting bizarre nonsense that that one barely registered before it was pushed to the back of his mind. “Hey,” he snapped. “You tryna short-change my associates? That’s gonna be five bucks. Each.”

Ty frowned. “Didn’t you just say I didn’t have to-?”

Stan leaned down to hiss in his ear. “First lesson of going it alone: Never pass on a good opportunity. Hussle, kid.”

And the poor suckers actually paid up. 15-about hardened criminals and drifters paid five whole bucks to watch two kids perform a weird little jig on top of the table, with no other accompaniment than the garbled noise from the radio above the bar. February really was the most boring month.

Stan had to hand it to them though. They managed to stay in sync pretty well. Ty kept up fine, despite looking like he might faint from embarrassment.

“I was wondering what was going on with that hair doo-hikie,” Ernie said, gesturing to the back of Stan’s head.

For a second, Stan had no idea what he was talking about. Then he reached back to pull the hair tie out of his hair. It was pink, and sparkly, with a smiling slice of watermelon attached to it. His face went red. Maybe it was lucky he’d worn the hat after all.

He shoved the hair tie in his pocket and tried not letting his embarrassment show on his face. “So, about that drink…”

Ernie laughed obnoxiously and slapped Stan’s shoulder. “Jackie,” he called to the bar. “Get this man a drink.” Turning back to Stan, he added. “I gotta head to the backroom and sort some stuff out. I’ll be back with your pay in a minute.”

Stan was perfectly happy to be left alone with his beer, but he hadn’t taken a sip before the barman went and tried to talk to him. “Hey, Forester, was it?”

“What?”

“I don’t really know what’s going on here, but you really oughta be more careful.”

“‘Scuse me?” Stan said, deeply unimpressed. If this was this pipsqueak's attempt at a threat, he was going to have to work a heck of a lot harder.

“Those two seem really worried about you.” That was not where he’d expected this to go. “They asked everyone a bunch of questions before you came back in.”

“Yeah, they do that,” Stan muttered. “What kind of questions?” His mind was rumbling like an engine in idle, ready to go a hundred miles an hour but lacking the info to do it.

The bartender had a look on his face like it was all very endearing, which, Stan guessed it must’ve looked like to an outsider. “Asked about Ern a lot – what he’s like and how you know each other. I wasn’t much help with the last one, since I don’t know who you are, really.”

Stan couldn’t think of the last time someone had taken such an annoying interest in his business – who he didn’t owe a staggering amount of money.

“Anything else?”

The bartender thought for a moment. “Asked about Kansas a lot, for some reason.”

“Kansas?”

“Yeah, if you knew anyone there, or had been? Again, I wasn’t much help, since, y’know, I don’t know who you are.”

What was he supposed to make of all that? He could almost hear something clicking together within his mind, but there was still a huge, unbridgeable gap. He turned on his seat so he could look at the twins. What a bizarre look it made, the two tiny kids standing on a table in the grossest bar in Idaho surrounded by a gang of the scariest, meanest looking types in the North-West. Ty looked fittingly nervous, but Destiny held herself like there was nothing strange about her being there.

They’d followed him here, and waited for him to step out the room before entering – intentionally avoiding him so they could, what, gather intel on him without him knowing? Sly. Slyer than he would’ve expected.

After a while Ernie returned from the backroom with an envelope for Stan and a pair of lollipops for the kids – which Stan probably shouldn’t let them eat, considering what kind of establishment this was.

Stan tucked the envelope inside his jacket. “You’re a lifesaver, Ernie.”

Ernie waved his hands dismissively. “It’s nothing, Hal.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “There’s a little extra for you guys in there.” To Stan’s horror, tears welled up in Ernie’s eyes. “You should’ve just told me that’s what you needed the money for.”

“Ha, yeah, sorry about that. It’s not something you go around telling people, is it?” Stan had no earthly idea what he was going on about. He spun on his heel to talk to the kids. “Alright. This time for real, we’re heading out.”

Ernie laid a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “I always thought you’d make a great father,” he sniffled.

Stan tried, but there was no way he could keep the disbelief from showing on his face. The matching expressions on the kids’ faces should’ve been insulting. But it was fair and he agreed completely.

Right as they were about to head out the door, one of the patrons called to them, “And watch out for Wet Winifred!”

“Hah?” Stan said reflexively, even though he didn’t want to hear it.

The vibe in the bar changed – conversations quieting, eyes turning, nails drumming against set down drinks. Someone cleared their throat awkwardly.

“Goold old Wet Winny,” said another patron – an ancient looking biker with a beard long enough to get stuck in the wheels. “The horse revenant that haunts these parts.” He gestured around the bar dramatically.

The kids ran up to the old biker before Stan had a chance to call him out. Destiny slammed her hands down on the table. “Did you say horse!?” she exclaimed.

“An actual ghost?” Ty squealed.

“Indoor voices,” Stan snapped. He gave the guy who’d opened this subject up a withering glare, before stepping up to the biker’s table. “Didn’t think anyone from the Board of Tacky Tourism would come to a place like this. Or dress like that.”

“Nothing to do with tourism,” the biker muttered.

Stan grinned mockingly. “Word of advice, nobody’s gonna be impressed by a horse priest ghost with the word _‘wet’_ in its name.” Stan was too busy staring the biker down that he didn’t notice the funny look Ty was giving him for a while. He looked down to find the kid squinting up at him. “What?”

“Are you mixing up revenant and _reverend?”_ Ty said, like any idiot ought to know the difference.

“No, and shut your yap.”

“A revenant is a kind of ghost.”

“Just say ghost, then.”

“There are different _types_ of ghosts – like poltergeists and banshees, as well as different categories. It’s important to know what kind of ghost you’re dealing with in order to find the most effective way of dealing with it. A revenant is a ghost that possesses some part of its own remains and wanders the living world, searching for vengeance.”

Stan felt simultaneously deeply unimpressed and very confused. He took a peak at the biker, finding him with a similarly lost expression. “Where’d you even get all that stuff from?”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of all that,” the biker said.

“See,” Stan said. “Even the creep tryina trick you into believing this crock doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Also, why would a horse turn into a ghost? What’s a horse got to be vengeful for? Now, add one of those vegetable-headed riders and you’ve got something you can sell.”

The biker stood up, jabbing Stan in the chest with a bony finger. “Now you listen here, boy. I may not know what this little spark plug’s talking about, but Wet Winnifred is as real as you and me. I’ve seen her with my own eyes. She runs along these roads, looking for someone to race against, and if she overtakes you, you’ll get dragged straight down to Hell.”

Stan snorted. “Hell’s not real. Also, do you always say this stuff in front of kids?”

The biker jabbed his chest again. “I don’t really hang around kids a lot. My son won’t let me see my grandkids.”

“Well, that’s sad. Okay, you twerps.” He grabbed the kids and steered them towards the exit. “Heading out now. No more ghost stories tonight.”

“Be on your guard when it rains,” the biker called after them. “Before Wet Winnifred appears, she brings rain out of nowhere – be it from clear or cold skies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan said without turning around. “Change the name and maybe you’ll have a half-decent ghost story.” When the door had fallen shut, he added. “Boy, that place is a lot weirder than I remembered. C’mon, there’s a warmish softish bed with my name on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wkhuh vkh jrhv, wkh kdjhupdq kruvh


	4. Nillwhere, Idaho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things lurking in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I take a lot of liberties with the ghost lore of Gravity Falls. I hope that's okay. I don't THINK it directly contradicts any canon stuff...
> 
> I experimented with some new colouring-stuff this week.

They started back towards the motel. Stan was walking with quick, angry footsteps, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The kids had to half-jog to catch up with him.

“Are you angry at us?” Destiny said around her lollipop.

Stan spluttered. “Yes! Of course I’m angry. I told you to stay in the room, and you immediately went against it.”

Ty took his lollipop out before speaking. “But didn’t you also say that we shouldn’t live by ‘kindergarten morality’?”

“It ain’t morality to not do things that puts you in pointless danger. What if those jumpsuits had shown up while you were sneaking around?”

“You said you’d shaken them off with a detour.”

“What are you, a lawyer?”

The kids’ cutsey-sibling-routine had netted them some good money – _plus_ whatever ‘extra’ Ernie had decided to give him – so he supposed it was unfair to be too angry with them. Still, the fact that they weren’t taking things more seriously was worrying. “You got lucky this time, but you’ve gotta be more careful.”

Destiny cocked her head to one side, giving him an almost owl-like look – big, wide, unnerving eyes. “The way you were super careful doing whatever made you bleed in the backroom?”

Busted. Why did he feel busted? He had nothing to answer for. Was it his face? No, he’d’ve noticed if he was bleeding from the face. He glanced down at his hands. There was a scrape on the back of his left hand. “What, this? That’s nothing. I didn’t even notice it ‘til now.”

Destiny frowned and looked away.

“I’m serious, kid. It doesn’t even hurt. I could have gotten it from falling of a bike.”

—  
  
—

“But you didn’t, did you?”

Stan usually hated people questioning his choices, or worse, looking at him with pity – because he was too stupid to know what he was doing, right? Maybe he was just too tired to muster up any real anger. “Look, I’m made of some tough stuff. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

Destiny looked like she wanted to say something, but one look at her brother shut her up. Stan looked to the kid on his other side, but Ty’s face revealed nothing more than the nervousness that always seemed to weigh on him. If he’d made some sign to Destiny, Stan had missed it.

“Bwap!”

Stan looked down to see a colorful plaster with wall-eyed cartoon-stars covering his scratched up hand. “Um, thanks.”

Destiny smiled brightly at him.

The sky opened up into a pummelling rainfall. Stan could’ve sworn it had been almost clear a second ago. Whatever, the main thing was getting out of it. He didn’t need to look around to know there wouldn’t be any convenient cover between here and the motel.

He pulled up the hood on his jacket and started half-running. “Right, let’s pick up the pace. And you better not catch a cold.”

“This isn’t a normal rainfall,” Ty said. “It’s gotta be Wet Winifred.” He was struggling a bit to run and talk at the same time.

Stan grimaced. “Say that stupid name again and you’re losing your talking privileges.”

“It’s just like that biker-man described it. Rain that starts and stops out of the blue.”

“It’s _the weather._ It changes. If you go through life assuming that anything that looks a bit weird at first glance is magic, you’re gonna end up the kind of guy who doesn’t leave his house and has blown all his money on psychic advisors and cancer-curing rocks.”

There was something funny about this rain, though Stan wasn’t about to say it out loud. It weighed him down more than it should, and the cold dug deep into his muscles and bones quick as nothing.

“For your information, my belief in the supernatural is based in empirical proof and personal…” He quieted and slowed to a stop. “Do you guys here that?”

“Any chance you’ll drop it and let us all get somewhere dry if I say ‘no’?” Stan asked.

Through the roar of the rain, there was a noise like two coconut halves being clapped together. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once, bouncing between the house walls. The curtains of rain made it hard to see anything clearly.

The clop-clop sound got louder. It still wasn’t clear from where it was coming.

“She’s coming this way,” Ty hissed.

“Alright, you need to tone it down, Spookenstein. You’re scaring your sister.”

“Not really,” Destiny said lightly at the same time as Ty said, “Are you kidding?”

“It’s just some teens playing a stupid prank, or something. If you were living in a brain-rot boring town like this, you’d be pulling crazy stunts too.”

“Hey!” Destiny said. “We already pull tons of crazy stunts, even when we’re not bored.”

Stan tried his best to glare at her. “Y’mean like crawling into a random strange car and following me to a dodgy underground rodeo bar after I told you to stay put?”

Destiny waved her hand dismissively. “That’s nothing compared to some of the things we’ve done.”

“See, it’s saying things like that that makes me worried you’ve actually done something seriously messed up.”

“Excuse me, hi?” Ty said, raising his hand like a teacher’s pet. He had taken the bag off his back and was digging through it. “Can we get back to the supernatural rain and vengeful ghost horse?”

“For the last time-” Stan stopped. The clip-clop sound had narrowed down to a point right behind them. A shiver went down his spine – because of the _rain_ and nothing else. Turning around, he saw a faintly glowing shape emerging out of the darkness. He squinted at it. “That better not be anything interesting.”

The shape drew near and became more distinct. Its legs moved out of sync with the sound of hooves beating against the ground. The skeleton glowed white inside a body that looked like murky, green lake water, flowing out of its eye sockets, back over the body. The mussel bone was bare and gray slime oozed from the nostrils and from between the teeth.

Stan sighed. “What have I done recently to deserve this?”

“Do you still think this is some teens pulling a prank?” Ty nagged. “Aha!” He pulled his hand out of the backpack, brandishing a small hand mirror.

“What’re you gonna do with that? Show it its reflection to make it think about its choices?”

The horse gave a loud neigh, that caused thick slime to splatter around it.

“Ew, gross,“ Destiny said.

“It has a silver backing,” Ty said. “Ghosts are weak to silver and a silver glass mirror can be used to trap them for a safe exorcism.

Stan rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe I just had to hear that.”

The horse skeleton was moving towards them at an almost leisurely pace. It was impressive that a heap of bones could look condescending.

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

Ty looked at his sister with a look of disbelief. “It’s a vengeful spirit! She’s going to hurt _us_ if we don’t do something.”

Destiny put her hands on her hips. “Who’s ever heard of a vengeful horse? She probably just wants some sugar cubes or something.”

She took a step towards the ghost, but Stan grabbed her arm before she got any further. “Do you have even an inch of self-preservation?” Ty tried stepping forward, but Stan grabbed him too. “Both of you!”

“I’ve-” Ty pulled out of Stan’s grip, “-got this!”

He moved towards the horse, but Destiny pulled herself free too and went after him. “Wait! Don’t hurt her. Maybe if we just-” She grabbed Ty’s arm to pull him back. But the ground was covered in rain soaked ice and Destiny barrelling into him was enough to send Ty to the ground.

There was a sound of something cracking.

“Uh-oh,” Destiny said.

“The mirror!” Ty exclaimed.

—  
  
—

The skeleton horse was getting closer. Its legs moved slower than they should, more skimming against the gnarled asphalt than walking on it. It stopped, turning its head slightly to look at them with one of its empty eye sockets and a violent shudder went through Stan’s whole body – like he’d just swallowed something really bad tasting.

Okay, shove this.

He tucked one kid under each arm, ignoring their yelps of surprise and Ty’s screeches of protest, and ran. He didn’t have Nillwhere’s streets memorised like he did with places he’d been for longer, or had had more practise getting chased in, but he knew vaguely in which direction the motel was, and he trusted his instincts to find the best path.

He heard the horse behind them and could only guess at how close it was. He wasn’t about to check. The kids had given up struggling against his grip, which was good, because he had a hard enough time holding on to them with their waterlogged clothes.

“She’s pretty slow for a horse,” Destiny said, hanging almost upside down in his arm to look behind. “Maybe she just wants to play.”

“Oh man, oh man, oh man,” Ty said.

Stan ignored them both. He could just spot the flickering sign of the motel above the roof of the house at the end of the street. The rain was all but dragging him towards the ground, and every breath he took brought a little drops of water into his lungs.

His shadow was growing shorter and sharper, until it suddenly swung under and behind him. The horse skeleton leapt over his head, landing right in front of them. Stan made for a side road without slowing down, only just avoiding losing his footing on the slippery ground. His mind was already racing ahead, imagining how many turns he would have to take to get back on track towards the motel.

One step, his foot hit against solid ground, the next step his foot sunk into the asphalt.

“Oh, for…” He tried taking the pressure off his foot and pull it upwards, but the muck had sealed itself tight around his leg, already starting to cut off his blood flow. His other leg was sinking too. Looking ahead, he could see where the ground went from black mush to normal asphalt, and bowled the kids in that direction. “Spread your weight out. Crawl like a baby.”

He let himself fall forward, spreading out like a starfish and tried wriggling his legs upwards, but it was as if the muddy ground was intentionally gripping on to him, actively dragging him down.

So, this was bad.

He looked up to where the kids were standing. Ty was digging through his bag again. Destiny was standing at the border – the shore – where the ground started giving way, fearful and fretting. She was taking little steps in place, eyes moving back and forth between Stan and whatever was behind him.

Stan clenched his teeth and cast a look back. The horse skeleton moved down the road, slowly now. Even though the ground around was a mushy mess, the sound of the hooves still sounded like it was walking on solid asphalt. Glowing muk was bleeding out of the holes in its skull, dripping from its jaw. Despite trying to spread his weight out, Stan’s legs were being sucked down quicker than the rest of his body. His left arm was getting stuck too.

“You two, get going!”

Ty either ignored him or didn’t hear. Destiny’s attention zeroed in on him, and instead of turning and running, the fear seemed to wash off her.

“Hey, no…!” Stan tried raising his right arm but realised that it had gotten stuck too.

Destiny set her jaw in a determined line. She looked around for a second, spotting a trash can in front of the house nearest to them. Stan recognised the look of someone acting without planning ahead, making decisions beat by beat. It was a technique he was personally very familiar with. 

“Whatever you think you’re doing, don’t.”

The line between solid and quicksand asphalt was curved on one side, creating a narrow point of solid ground between the house wall and the and the mud. Destiny pulled the trash can close to it, pretty much blocking herself in just at the point where she still had enough space to throw her arms around.

She took the lid off and pulled a glass bottle out of the can, which she hurled at the horse. It sailed over its head. 

“Hey you!” she hollered, throwing another piece of trash at the ghost. This one went through the translucent flesh of its neck and ‘pinged’ against the bone. The horse stopped, turning its head slowly towards Destiny. A soda can hit it right between the eyes.

“Ha! Nice shot!” Stan yelled automatically. Then the horse changed direction, moving right towards Destiny. “Hey! Hey, eyes on me, Musty Mare!”

“No, me! Look at me!” Destiny threw the trash can lid at the horse, again hitting it dead on in the head. “I’m loud and annoying!” 

The light came on in the horse’s empty eyes, and the ground around Destiny started giving away.

“Destiny!”

It took her a weirdly long time to react to the sound of her own name. She looked down and pressed herself up against the wall, frozen in place.

“Don’t just stand there!”

But it was too late. The last sliver of solid ground sunk away and Destiny lost about three inches in height as both her feet sunk into the ground. Stan’s heart did some sinking of its own.

“Let me go!” Destiny struggled to get her legs free, which was only making her sink deeper faster.

“Hey, hey! Listen to me, kiddo.” Stan tried to sound steady and authoritative. Destiny looked back at him and he hoped he appeared surer than he felt. “You gotta stay calm. Quit wriggling around.”

She hesitated between listening to him and trusting her instincts. The horse continued its approach towards her. Slowly, like it knew neither of them was going to be able to get away.

“Trust me, kiddo. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten stuck in the dirt.”

If it was just him, he might’ve admitted that it was hopeless. He looked over at Ty. “How’s that plan B coming?”

Ty looked up with round, scared eyes and gritted teeth. “Uh-huh…!”

“Okay. Great.” He took a breath, feeling a pressure under his chest that made it hard to get enough air in his lungs.

Even though she’d taken Stan’s advice, Destiny kept sinking. Slowly, and then quickly, like something had given out under her. She was submerged to her waist and looked up at Stan with a face full of fear and betrayal. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Ty was pretty much losing it – Stan wasn’t listening to what he was shouting. Distantly, Stan understood that the kid was gonna try and pull his sister out and – because he was panicking and lacked the strength – end up falling in himself.

Stan’s brain was spinning place like a car stuck in mud, searching for options. He was almost right between Destiny and the skeleton horse. It had to pass pretty close by him.

“Hey, swamp donkey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, huh? You think I can’t take you just ‘cause I’m stuck in the ground?” He barely knew what he was saying at this point. “Hey, are you deaf as well as stupid? All that mud’s got your ears clogged up?”

 _Finally,_ the horse faltered. It was about in line with where Stan’s foot – probably – was. His lower body was almost completely submerged, sticking in the ground at a half-angle. His neck was really starting to hate him from all the twisting he had to do to keep his eyes on the skeleton.

It felt almost like the ground completely vanished under him. His body straightened out until his legs were back under him and he’d sunk down to his upper stomach and elbows. “Damn it!” The suffocating pressure settling around his lungs – that’s what kills you in the end. No need to get your whole head under when the air was getting squeezed out of you from all sides.

The horse was standing right over him, glaring down with its big, dumb, empty eyes, and Stan started to feel more pissed off than scared. “Alright, you want a piece of this? Be my guest.”

He pressed with his arms against what little leverage the soft mud offered, twisting his upper body to the side as far as it would go, just about able to get close enough one of the front legs to bite down on it. He felt his mouth clog up with something icy cold and slimy with a taste like fusty autumn air. Then his teeth struck against bone, sending vibrations through his skull.

The horse let out a weird noise, more like a howl than any noise horses normally made. It reared back, leaving behind the bone Stan had chomped down on. Without a second look at either Stan or the kids, it stumbled off into the darkness. The leg with a missing bone lagged slightly behind the rest of the body.

The rain stopped immediately.

Stan spit the bone out and laughed like a jackass. “And _that’s_ why we’re on top of the food chain, you dumb horse!”

He could feel the mud around him start to solidify, and for a moment he was scared they were going to end up stuck in the hardened asphalt, but as it returned to normal, the ground seemed to push him up to the surface.

He didn’t get much of a chance to wrap his head around what had just happened. The moment the ground was solid enough to walk on, Destiny was kneeling at his side, shaking him violently. “Hey? Hey! Are you okay? Are you alive?”

Ty came running too. “Why would you _do_ that? How did that work?”

Stan rolled on to his back with a loud sigh. “You said that thing about silver,” he said, discovering his own train of thought as he was voicing it. “Silver fillings.” He said, baring his teeth and tapping his fingers against one of them. “Who’d’ve thought going to the dentist might actually be good for something?” He looked over at Destiny, who was shivering pretty badly where she was kneeling next to him. “You alright, kiddo?”

She grinned, even though her teeth were chattering like castanets. “Not dead, which is great.”

“I can’t believe…” Ty sat down on sidewalk, looking a pretty shell shocked.

Stan pushed himself into a seated position. There wasn’t a trace of mud on either him or Destiny, but the parts of them that had been submerged were soaked through. Stan’s legs were buzzing with blood flowing back into them.

Destiny kicker her legs out from under her, wriggling her feet. “Aah, pins and needles!”

Stan laughed and there was an unpleasant crackle between his teeth. “Ugh, why’s my mouth full of sand?” He sat up and tried to spit some of the grit out of his mouth.

Ty got to his feet and picked up the bone laying next to Stan. He felt its weight and turned it over in his hands. “I don’t think this is a bone. It’s a fossil.”

“I’m pretty sure fossils _are_ bones.”

“Actually, sometimes the the organic material in fossils is replaced with minerals.”

“Never mind. I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I knew it was gonna get me a lecture.” He got to his feet, cringing at the pain in his legs. “Let’s head back before something else stupid happens.”

Destiny twister her hair up to squeeze some of the water out of it. “Aw man, imagine if I had silver braces. Then I could bite ghosts too.”

Ty looked sceptical for half a second, before his eyes went wide. “That… Would be amazing.”

“I know! It’d be just like in Ghost Maze! Wapa wapa wapa!” She ran in a circle around her brother, opening and closing her mouth like the video game character.

Ty laughed. Stan turned away and tried to tune them out – tried to think only about the ache in his bones and the bed waiting at the motel, and nothing else. An ancient fossil ghost – Ford would’ve loved that.

Destiny poked him in the side. “Hey, guess _you’re_ the ankle biter now, huh?”

“Ha!” Stan hee-hawed. “Good one!”

—

_Memories plucked from their rightful place were dragged into his dream. The fog was tearing at the seems to make room for the sharp clarity of recollection._

He hadn’t slept for more than a few hours for the last couple of days – just enough to keep him from fainting at the wheel. His main concern was getting to Gravity Falls as quick as possible. Personal comfort didn’t matter much, and it wasn’t like he was going to be able to get much sleep while wondering and fretting over what could’ve caused Ford to break the silence after all this time.

He didn’t want to voice it, or even think it, but some part of him hoped that Ford wanted to reconcile.

That hope died at the wrong end of a crossbow.

This wasn’t the first time Stan had had a weapon pointed at his face – not even the first time it had been by someone he trusted.

_Shoving wads of cash into a battered knapsack. His heart was racing but it was with triumph because they’d done it – they’d actually done it! They’d gotten their money and left the dumb ass cops in the dust. He was gonna turn this 200,000 into a million and then he was gonna go home and shove it all in Pa’s face._

_He turned and stared right into the barrel of Ossy’s gun._

_“Nothing personal, kid. Look at it as a learning experience.”_

Ford somehow smelled worse than Stan, which was just kinda impressive, to be honest. His house looked like a poorly thought through haunted house attraction. The lights were off and the shadows were full of random crap that had to be related to Ford’s research – an entire jar of eyeballs in a yellow-ish liquid, a human skeleton missing half the ribs, and several janky-looking machines that did who-knew-what.

Everything was so very clear – time moved precisely as it should, every detail was defined, even when he wasn’t focused on them. It was trying to pass itself off as a dream, but dreams were never as exact as this, and memories were never this real.

Ford clearly needed something off him, but he wasn’t really listening when Stan asked what was going on, or tried to offer support. He had something to show Stan. Like he’d planned what he was going to say, and whatever Stan responded with didn’t really matter.

The tension vibrated of Ford in the elevator, as they sunk deeper and deeper into the earth. _Was it really such a pain to be around Stan?_ In the cavernous basement, the shadows looked almost liquid, swimming over the walls, creating strange shapes. The machines winked at him, a billion little lights and gages, and above it all loomed the huge triangular structure.

Ford was explaining it – the weird machine. Dimensions and universe-secrets and terrible destruction. He was waving some battered book in Stan’s face. “That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explained how to operate it. There's only one left. And you are the only person I can trust to take it.”

Ah, that was the deal – after all this build up and preamble, this was what Ford wanted off him. _He must’ve been pretty desperate if Stan the Moron was the only person he could trust._

“You remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat? Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

For a moment Stan couldn’t even speak. Something stuck in his throat like a cork. Ford turned away to busy himself with some part of the weird basement machine. _Like he couldn’t even stand looking at him._

“That’s it?” he said flatly. “Not a word for ten years and then you call me up here to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?”

“Stanley,” Ford said in his ‘you’re being an idiot and it’s annoying’ voice. “There isn’t time for all that. You don’t understand what I am up against; what I have been through.”

Stan wanted to say, ‘So tell me, then’. Or, ‘you think _you’ve_ had it rough?’

But if Ford had ever cared to know what was going on with Stan, he’d have already asked, wouldn’t he? If he wanted to explain himself, he’d have done it.

It was all so pointless – talking. Trying.

“This is your chance to finally do something worthwhile with your life.”

Ford’s words were like a match sailing through the air to land in an oil slick. They went in through his ears, and they should have set his insides on fire. His lungs and guts were filled with anger, like thick black oil, waiting for the spark to ignite them. And here it was – his chance to explode.

But he was too cold, and too tired. The match landed and went out. What was the point?

Something wanted to scream that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, that it was supposed to be them against the world. _But Ford had outgrown that way of thinking a long time ago, hadn’t he?_ Maybe it was about time Stan did the same.

 _This is what real life’s like, Fishy. People pretend to care about you because they want something out of you._ Jimmy had done a good job acting like he gave a shit about Stan until it was easier to ditch him. _They can dress it up in all kind of pretty words and promises and random generosity, but no one does anything for anyone without expecting some kind of pay out._ At the start, Rico had dressed himself up as a soft-hearted, giving kinda guy who wanted nothing but helping chumps down on their luck. Then, once he’d gotten his claws in you, he showed his true colors.

_’Friend’, and ‘family’ and ’brother’. It’s all just words to trick you into trusting too much and giving stuff away for free._

“Fine.”

Ford turned, relieved. “Thank you, Stanley.” He smiled, face half in shadow. “I know it’s hard to understand,” _for you,_ “but this is a very important job. You’re the only one I can trust with it.”

Stan looked at his brother. Their eyes met, but it didn’t feel like Ford saw him. _Look, everyone betrays you eventually. The only way to avoid it is to be the one doing the betraying._ Like he had with Jean.

Ford was still running on his script to convince Stan, even after he’d already agreed. Talking back made about as much sense as talking to the TV.

So, he tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave. “Yeah. Got it.” He walked as quick as he could, not caring how it looked. He just needed to get the fuck out of here.

—  
  
—

_Being brothers apparently wasn’t a worthwhile thing, huh._

He’d die before he ever set foot in Oregon again.

Something wanted to press on in the memory, but Stan couldn’t see the point. He’d gotten to his car and left, and that was that. _Just show me._ Stan decided to wake up. He strained his eyes open even though it felt like they already were, until he regained control over his body outside the dream.

He stared up at another indistinct motel room ceiling. His pulse was thrumming against his skull and behind his eyes. He sat up, slung his legs over the side and dragged both hands down his face. The kids were asleep, despite the growing morning light, like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Why was he doing this again?

He’d always had a ‘no hitchhikers’ policy. There was no way of knowing who you might be picking up, and what they might be capable of doing. It never lead to anything good, he’d always thought, and turns out he was right. What had it gotten him to let these two hang on? Spandex-cults and expenditures he couldn’t afford. So what if they were kids? He’d been too at one point, and no one had ever seen that as a reason to give him special treatment.

The money he’d made last night would go a lot further if it was just him.

He’d have to ditch them eventually. This was as good a place as any – probably pretty safe, compared to some other options. The owner of the motel would probably be happy to take them in, if her cooing over them last evening was anything to go by.

Enough fretting. The kids were going to wake up any second. “If you’re gonna leave, just do it,” he muttered. His bag was packed – aside from the clothes he’d hung to dry. The door was five steps away. He’d be gone in seconds.

The next thing he knew, his hand was on the doorknob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wklv prphqw d vhfrqg, lq klv qljkwpduhv iru olih.


	5. Northern Utah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan does a lot of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a bit on the shorter side. I couldn't find a better place to cut it.
> 
> EDIT 25/5/2019 -- The next chapter is probably (read almost definitely) gonna be delayed. When I started publishing this, I already had a bunch of chapters pretty much finished, but now I'm caught up, and I need the time to edit and tweak things. It's also likely that I'll change from weekly to bi-weekly publishing.

Stan looked down at his hand, at the bandage covering his scuffed up hand. It would be a lesson for both of them. This was what trusting, or giving a shit about someone got you.

They shouldn’t have been stupid enough to rely on someone like him.

Staring into the wood grain of the door, ready to turn the doorknob, he remembered something important. If he ditched them, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on for being angry with Ford. He’d kept Stan around when he was useful, had called him to Oregon when he needed a mule, and the rest of the time he couldn’t care less about him.

He needed that self righteous anger, because he didn’t know – didn’t want to know – what he’d feel without it.

Of course, this was different. These two were complete strangers, not family – there was no bound to betray here. As if family had ever meant anything. Stan’s family had given up on him long before he’d messed up unforgivably, and these two had been pushed to running away from whatever family they had.

’Friend’, and ‘family’ and ’brother’ – just words to trick you into trusting too much and giving stuff away for free.

Something was wrong. It didn’t take him this long to make decisions.

It was definitely easier to scam people with kids around. People’d feel sorry for them, or think he was less of a threat. But with the extra expenses, it might not to work out to any more than what he could make on his own. But if it worked out the same, he might as well bring them along. But that was forgetting the risks of splitting his attention. If the events of the past evening had proven anything it was that getting by was a lot more involved with more moving parts. 

Anytime he’d ever trusted anyone, or been trusted by anyone, it’d always ended badly. But if you do something enough times, you’re gonna beat the odds eventually. The definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over and expect a different outcome. He’d always gotten by by doing stupid, risky things on a whim. Maybe it was time to change that, though. But he didn’t-

The silence was broken by a loud, very wet-sounding sneeze.

Stan’s hand flinched away from the doorknob like it had burned him. He looked over to the kids’ bed. Destiny was blinking dazedly. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and snorted loudly. “Is it time to go?”

“Uh, no.” Stan let the bag slide on to the floor. “Just had to check something in the car.”

The excuse went by unremarked. Destiny slumped forward, staring down with a gtired, glassy eyed look. Stan went up to press a hand to her forehead. “Don’t think you’ve got a fever. Not a bad one at least.” He gave her forehead a little push. “Try and sleep it off.”

—  
  
—

Destiny laid back down. “Sleep what off?” she mumbled.

Stan’s lips twitched into a smile. “The cold?” He touched Ty’s forehead as well. The boy looked a bit ruddy around the nose and cheeks, but didn’t appear to have a fever either.

“I don’t get colds.” Destiny shut her eyes. “I’m the alpha twin.”

Stan sat down on his own bed and took off his boots. “Sure you are, kiddo. But lemme tell you, I used to know a so called ‘alpha twin’, and he’d get the worst colds you can imagine.”

For a second he thought she might have gone back to sleep right away, but then a small “Really?” came from the other bed.

“Really.” He threw the jacket towards the chair in the corner. “Every single winter. And he’d complain about them until you thought your ears were gonna fall off. He always had something that was just _so important_ that he had to do, so he didn’t have the time to be sick. He’d even complain about missing school – can you believe that?”

Destiny laughed, and then coughed. “I believe that.”

“So there you go. Now, go to sleep before I konk you on the head.”

He didn’t hear any more protests, just a slowing, slightly wheezy breathing. Right when he was sure she’d fallen asleep, Destiny spoke again. “Want to talk about him?” There was something strangely gentle in her delivery, but that might just be the cold and general sleepiness.

Stan glanced over, seeing that Destiny had pulled the blanket up over her head. He didn’t want to talk about Ford – didn’t want to think about Ford. But he’d been the one to bring it up. And just now, he’d come within an inch of… It was his fault the dumb kids had gone and gotten themselves sick. Biting her head off on this felt pretty damn low right now.

“Old friend of mine – really old. We don’t really talk anymore.”

“Why?”

He stared at the wall, caught by surprise like that wasn’t the most obvious follow up question.

“Loads of reasons.” He really should just lie. It was easier. “Sometimes people just drift apart.” He risked glancing down and found himself pinned by a sleepy but very serious gaze peeking out from the darkness between the sheets. Guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she could tell he was lying about this if she knew he was lying about his name. He heaved a heavy sigh. “We… wanted different things.” Close enough to the truth.

“Do you miss him?”

Stan flinched. Kid really didn’t pull her punches, did she? “Nah. I think we’re both better off alone.”

“Nobody’s better off alone.”

Stan scoffed. “When you get to my age-”

“I’m sure he misses you.”

Stan felt a jab like someone had stuck a knife in his stomach. There was a great big roar of something that wanted to rise to the surface, but he pressed it down – shut down all thoughts. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“Future vision.”

Stan made a noise that was either a sigh or a laugh. “What’s this got to do with the future?”

“Everything’s-” She was cut off by another sneeze. “Everything’s to do with the future, silly. That’s like, how time works.”

There was a joke on his tongue about how he himself had very little to do with the future, considering what kind of prospects and life-expectancy he had. But he sensed that all that was going to get him was another too serious look and more motivational catch-phrases.

“Y’see some actual sleep for yourself with that future vision?”

Destiny took a deep, sleepy breath. “May-beans…” she mumbled, pulling the cover tighter around herself. “Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.” She gave Stan one last, unreadable look before closing her eyes and finally, hopefully going to sleep.

Stan leaned back against the pillow, without hope or intention of sleeping. He set all thoughts of his brother aside with practised ease – forced himself to focus all his attention on whatever was most important in that moment, instead of anything in the past.

There was something off about that dream. It was all true, from a certain view – he was angry and bitter and he knew that trusting people was leaving yourself open for a knife in your back. But it was like the dream had picked every burning ember scattered across his brain, put them all in a pile and poured gasoline on them.

It had been enough to hurl him into action that wouldn’t have occurred to him the night before.

It was one thing to be wary of what other people said to you – watching out for certain words and tricks and how they were meant to push you in one direction or the other. But what were you going to do when the call was coming from inside the house? How could you tell which thoughts and choices were your own?

He smiled, despite himself. It was laughably simple when it came down to it. He’d always been boneheaded and stiff-necked. Stubbornly staying the course despite mounting evidence that he oughta change was the one thing he was really good at.

Maybe he didn’t know which doubts were really his, but he knew a stupid Stan-decision when he saw one. If he just stuck to the whatever he’s first instinct had been, ignoring anything that whispered that it was a bad idea, he could be pretty sure that that was his own choice. Try manipulating someone who refuses to change their mind!

He didn’t need justifying himself to anybody, not even himself – or whatever else might or might not be in his head. He wasn’t leaving, just because.

Daylight crawled in through the window, achingly slow. It was going to be a cloudy kind of day. He decided it was in everyone’s best interest to let the kids sleep until they woke up on their own, which turned out not to be that long. Destiny was still sick and had no appetite for breakfast. Ty sniffled a bit, but was otherwise fine.

They were out of the room by nine. Destiny ended up curled up in the back seat wrapped in one of the frayed blankets from the trunk, along with all the toilet paper from their room and the one next door. The lock had been a breeze.

All traces of the previous night’s rainfall were gone, and already a new layer of dust was settling on top of everything. They left Nillwhere behind and continued until scruffy dry shrubland turned into fields and farms – similarly dead looking this time of year.

The car was much quieter than the day before. Destiny wasn’t doing any talking and Ty seemed to have lost interest in asking his billion questions. It was more like what Stan was used to when driving, so it was funny how strange it already felt.

But the silence obviously couldn’t last forever.

“Dipper…”

It had been nothing more than a whisper, but Ty flinched like a gun had gone off.

“Dipper…!” Louder this time.

Ty twisted around and shushed frantically. Destiny was, as ever, unbothered by his berating. “No shush! I wanna say something. Dipper, I’m sorry about your mirror.”

Ty went quiet and Destiny sniffed loudly, either from her cold or from crying. For Stan, it felt like time was slowing down. His hearing went funny, distorting the sound of the engine and the wind to a distant murmur. He didn’t wanna take a breath, ‘cause it’d be way to loud in the sudden silence.

It must’ve been just a few seconds before Ty replied, but it felt like longer. “Hey, it’s- It’s okay.”

Stan’s heart punched against his ribcage.

“But we needed that, didn’t we?” Destiny’s voice went high with upset. “What if there’s another ghost. What if that’s-”

“Well!” Ty said, a bit sharply, before going on in a more gentle voice. “If that happens, he can just bite them again.” He pointed to Stan with his thumb.

“Do you think so?”

“Mhmm.” Ty nodded.

Destiny kicked the back of Stan’s seat. “Will you promise you’ll bite them if there are any more ghosts?”

Stan didn’t notice the tightness in his chest until he tried to talk around it. “Yeah, sure I will. No ghost better mess with these chompers.” 

Destiny snorted. “Good.” Then she went quiet.

Ty turned to sit back down, also quiet.

Stan looked at the road ahead, but in his head, he kept flashing to the sight of Destiny sinking into the ground, looking at him with wide, scared eyes. The evening before, she’d been completely unaffected by the thought of running into a ghost, and now here she was, scared and guilty and asking Stan to scare them off.

It seemed like she was learning that the world was scary now rather than later, starting with _ghosts_ of all things.

After some time, he said, “‘Dipper’?”

Ty startled again. “It’s not…!” He stopped himself, thought for a second, and seemed to relax a bit. “It’s just a stupid nickname.”

Stan huffed. “Yeah, I figured.”

They sunk back into silence, but there was something Stan couldn’t let go off. Like the sea returning something that’s been thrown into its waves, his mind would sometimes provide answers to questions he didn’t even realize he had been asking.

“We’re stopping for a bit.”

“Hm? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Not a great thing to hear before stopping on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.”

Stan parked at a rest stop at the edge of a yellowed field. He and Ty got out.

Stan dug through the junk in the backseat. Destiny snorted awake and blinked at him a couple of times. A streak of snot leaked out her nose and she reached up to wipe it away with the corner of the blanket. “Hey!” Stan quickly pressed her hand down and handed her a couple of squares of toilet roll instead. “It’s literally right next to you.”

Destiny wiped her face blew her nose. “Like you’d even be able to tell the difference,” she mumbled, eyes already falling shut again. She didn’t even seem interested in asking why they’d stopped. “This thing’s like, super grody.”

“You’re super grody,” Stan muttered, picking through maybe-useful-maybe-trash pile.

 _“You’re_ super grody.” She pointed to him with one sock’d foot, nearly kicking him in the face.

“Go back to sleep. Aha!” He lifted an upturned box and found the boxing gloves crammed inside it.

They were a bit big on a kid, but they’d do in a pinch – or should hat be ‘a punch’? He didn’t have a punching bag or boxing pads, but if he packed his duffle bag with clothes it’d be good enough for a scrawny kid just starting out.

He turned to Ty with a grin, swinging the gloves by the drawstrings.

“You’re not going to try to teach me how to box, are you?” He didn’t sound surprised so much as weary.

“I’m gonna teach you how to box!”

Ty eyed the gloves with trepidation.

“Unless you’re too chicken,” Stan added.

That got the desired effect. Ty’s face flashed with insecurity before settling into a determined grimace. He snatched the gloves from Stan and put them on. Stan filled the already pretty stuffed duffle bag to the point just shy of bursting.

Just from going over the basics, it became clear that they had a very long way to go.

“C’mon, I said _hit it,_ not pet it.”

“I _am_ hitting it!” Ty snapped, throwing another weak punch that barely moved the bag in Stan’s hands. The kid was breathing like he’d run a marathon. He’d removed his sweater, but not his cap, and it was almost steaming with sweat.

—  
  
—

“Well, put your back into it! C’mon, you gotta do better.”

Ty took a step back, giving Stan a slightly angry but mostly hysterical glare. “Why?” he squeaked, throwing his arms out. “Why are you suddenly so insistent on teaching me to box?””

“You’ve got a sister to look after. This stuff’s gonna help with that.”

Ty ungritted his teeth, floundering a bit before being able to get any words out. “‘Look after’? She’s not-” It was subtle, but his eyes seemed to get more perceptive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you two are gonna be on the run, _you_ are going to get it in your head that the world is dangerous, full of terrible people who’re gonna wanna hurt or scam or backstab you. Destiny is a girl, and girls are sensitive and…” He gestured vaguely, “...soft. As her brother, you’re the one who’s gotta look out for her, and that means you’ve got to be strong enough to protect her, and that you can’t yell at her, and _definitely_ not hit or _kick_ her.” 

Ty stared at him like he’d grown an extra head. He tried to slap his forehead in frustration, but the glove got in the way and he ended up tapping the side of his face and flinching away from his own hand. “I forget how _old_ you are,” he muttered.

“Hey, I’m 28! That ain’t old.”

Ty wasn’t able to fidget with the gloves on, so instead he rubbed the padded knuckles against one another. “You know… I do want to become tougher, and I want to be able to protect Ma- my sister…”

“Good. Then-”

“But it isn’t because she’s a _girl,_ or because she can’t do things. She’s pretty strong, actually.”

“Kid, I think compared to you, most kittens look pretty strong.”

“You... You don’t actually know anything about her _or_ me.” Ty looked more sure in himself than Stan had ever seen him. “We know what we’re doing.”

Stan hung the bag off his shoulder so he could cross his arms. “You know what you’re doing, huh? That’s what that was last night?”

Ty was already pretty red from the exercise, but his face seemed to have a few more degrees in it. “I had everything under control until-”

“Until _one_ single unexpected thing happened and then you were digging through the trash in your little monster hunting kit while your sister was drowning in magical melting asphalt.”

Ty flinched. Stan imagined that that sight was pretty well stuck in his head too. It _should_ be. Ty looked down for a drawn-out moment, standing very still, shoulders stiff and hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. Stan could almost see the gears turning in his head, until something clicked together and his expression tightened with real anger.

“Like whatever you were doing was just so effective!” He gestured at Stan with a sharp motion. “You just- _do_ whatever and rely on luck to get through.”

“Hey, I haven’t died yet so it’s working pretty well, isn’t it?”

Ty’s eye twitched. Even when angry, he still took several false starts before landing on what to say. “And how long is that going to work? In case you’ve forgotten, you were in as much danger as she was. If you hadn’t just _happened_ to randomly have a bunch of silver in your mouth…” He faltered at hearing how ridiculous that all sounded. “...And, and, if I hadn’t been there to tell you all those things about ghosts, you’d be toast.”

“Yeah, yeah, and if I hadn’t picked you two up in the first place I never would have stopped in that hick town. How far are we going back?”

Ty gaped like a fish out of water. Apparently that come-back was a lot _better_ than it had sounded in his head. His mouth clicked shut and he stared down at the ground with wide eyes, like he was trying to burn a hole through it.

—  
  
—

Stan was about to snap his fingers in front of his nose, when Ty finally blinked himself back into the presence. He looked up, not at Stan, but at the car. He tapped the gloves together in a rhythmless beat. After a while, he spoke. “She’d be really hurt if she knew that’s what you really think about her.”

“Hey, it isn’t about thinking less of her.” Stan raised his hand defensively, a bit wrong footed by the sudden change in topic. “Girls and boys are just different, that’s all.”

“Yes well, not like that. And not my sister.” Ty raised his hands in an almost passable defensive stance, gesturing impatiently when Stan didn’t immediately move the bag into position. He threw another punch, still not especially strong, but a real improvement on anything he’d tried before.

Stan wanted to dismiss it all as an attempt to shirk responsibility, or Ty not wanting to admit that he didn’t have what it took to look after another person. But there was that certainty that looked almost out of place on that otherwise nervous face.

“Ask her about her gummy worm record and she’ll show you ‘sensitive’ and ‘soft’.”

“Gummy worm record?”

A small smirk that looked _completely_ out of place formed on Ty’s lips. “Let’s just say that multiple scientific sources agree that it is the worst thing they have ever seen.”

To his credit, Ty kept at it until he was pretty much exhausted. His face was beat-root red and he was breathing like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. Maybe it hadn’t been the world’s best idea to force a possibly ill kid to undergo severe exercise.

He sat on top of a tuft of grass and pulled the gloves off.

The sound of the window being rolled down made them both look up. Destiny poked her head out, squinting against the daylight. “What’re you nerds doing?” she mumbled.

“Who’re you calling a nerd?” Stan blurted.

“Are you feeling better?” Ty asked.

“Mhmm.” Destiny rested her chin on top of the window, grinning tiredly. “I’m hungry.”

“Figures,” Stan said. He slapped Ty’s back encouragingly. “Let’s take lunch and get going.”

Destiny managed five slices of bread with more Mystery Jam than actual bread. She was sitting sideways on her seat, feet dangling out the open door, still wrapped up in the blanket with only her hands and feet poking out. Ty didn’t have the energy to move from his perch on top of the tuft, or do more than nibble on a single slice of bread. He stared ahead with worried, unseeing eyes, clearly deep in his own thoughts.

Stan leaned back against the hood, chomping away on his own sandwich while staring out over the field. It was nice. The day was cool but not uncomfortably so and there were no sounds apart from the murmur of wind through dead grass and the occasional car passing by.

Eating was rarely something Stan lingered on. He’d shove a piece of bread or whatever else in his mouth without stopping the car, or wolf down the rare hot meal quick before someone tried exploiting the moment of weakness. But now, because the kids ate like they had all the time in the world – one in terms of speed and the other in volume – Stan found himself slowing down too.

He took a big bite and chewed thoughtfully. Just a nice, relaxed lunch in the middle of nowhere where nobody or nothing was going to bother them. After the past few days, it was just what he needed.

He swallowed and sighed. “What the hot fudge is that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Zruvw wklqj L hyhu vdz. Dqg L’yh orrnhg d Juhporeolq lq wkh hbh.” – Ilggohirug PfJxfnhw


	6. Totenglocke Farm, Utah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes easy money aren't so easy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah! This. Chapter. Beat. Me. Up. It just kept creating new problems and would not let itself be written. I'm sorry it's so late.
> 
> I updated the notes on the last chapter, but I'll say it again here: When I started posting, I already had a few chapter pretty much finished. Now I'm all caught up and because of that, it might take me longer to update from now on.

Halfway across the field, something orange and triangular moved towards them – pretty quick too for its small size. Stan’s first thought was that it had to be some animal stuck under a traffic cone, but as it got closer, he could see the orange cone was sitting on top of a person shaped thing.

“See what I said about kids in the countryside? Bored stupid, all of them.”

“That’s… not a kid,” Ty said.

Stan glared at him. “If this another one of your ghost things I swear…”

“What do you mean ‘my’ ghost things? I have literally no control over any of this.”

The figure was close enough now that Stan could tell the squat figure had a red nose and a long white beard that almost reached its feet. “So you’re trying to telling me that’s _not_ a kid in a bad Halloween costume?”

“You three!” screeched the little figure, in a very un-kiddy voice.

“In February?” Ty said, not terribly bothered by the angry little man heading toward them. “No, I’m reasonably sure that’s a gnome.”

Stan choked on his spit and coughed out a laugh. “A w- what!? No, no c’mon. What is it really?” He looked at Ty’s face. “Sweet Moses, you’re serious.”

“It’s very unusual to see one this far away from any forested area, though…” Ty flipped to the back of his notepad and started scribbling. “And they usually move in groups of at least-”

“Just tell me if it’s dangerous or not,” Stan cut in.

“Only if there are a lot of them, but they can be pretty aggressive under the right – wrong circumstances.”

“And creepy,” Destiny added. “Like, they’ll pretend to be a cool, deep, kinda vampirey boyfriend and then try to force you to marry them just ‘cause their old queen got eaten by a badger.” After a pause, she added, “Also, they’re bitey.”

Stan blinked. Boy, was there a lot to unpack there, but he didn’t really have the time. The little man was getting close enough that Stan could make out his rage filled, wrinkly face. So instead of asking follow up questions, he said, “Mind heading me that bat?”

Destiny shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, laid on her back to reach behind her and popped back out, baseball bat in hand. “What’re we doing?”

Stan got into position a few steps in front of the car, widening his stance and raising the bat with both hands. He fixed his eyes on the orange-white shape heading towards them, sensing just how many seconds it was going to be before the right moment to strike.

Before he got within reach though, the old man skidded to a stop, raising his hands defensively. “Now, hold on. That’s a bit of an overreaction.”

“I’ve had my fill of spooky fairy tale bull this week, so you can either back off, or I’ll make you fly off.”

“I can’t ‘back off’ while _you_ are trespassing on private property!” The little man pointed at Stan with a gnarled finger.

Stan could feel a headache coming on. His life had actually come to the point where a living lawn decoration hick was trying to chase him off the side of a public road – like the barren field was anything worth guarding in the first place. 

“Oh. Oh!” Ty exclaimed. “Oh my gosh!”

Yep, definitely getting a headache.

“You’re not a gnome – you’re a nisse!” Ty turned the page and jumped to his feet. “This is amazing! A- A scientific breakthrough! For decades nisse were believed to be a myth stemming from people misidentifying gnomes!”

“You thought I was a _gnome?”_ The old man said the word like it was the most insulting thing anybody could be called. “Those _idiots_ don’t even know how to go from one leader to another without complete societal breakdown. They couldn’t do my job if you read them the manual!”

“I- I’m very sorry to have insulted you,” Ty said, too excited to be nervous, apparently. “Would you be open to an interview to establish the differences between gnomes and nisse?”

“Well…” The old man crossed his arms. “If I were to go into detail we would be here all day, but to start with-”

“Oh for the love of-” Stan groaned. “Forget about the ruddy _gnomes_! I couldn’t care less! What is _your_ deal!?” He gestured to the nisse with the bat.

“I am the guardian of this here farm. It’s my job to look after the humans and livestock _and_ keep it safe from trespassers.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah? Wouldn’t that job be better done by someone…” He gestured with the baseball bat. “Regular sized? Or, I don’t know, a dog?”

The nisse’s face darkened.

“Hey,” Ty hissed. “Maybe we should try _not_ making new enemies everywhere we go? If the mythology around nisse is true this guy could be pretty dangerous.” He raised his voice to talk to the nisse. “We only stopped to eat. We’ll be gone in a minute.”

The nisse tilted his head to the side. “You people from out of state?”

“Yeah!” Destiny said.

“Don’t-” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t just blurt that out to anybody.” He turned back to the nisse. “What’s that to you?”

The nisse reached into his pocket and pulled out an old silver dollar, which covered his whole hand when he held it in his tiny palm. It caught the light and threw it in Stan’s eye.

“I can always tell. Listen, I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” the nisse said, peering at his reflection in the coin and brushing his fingers through his beard. He pocketed it again and extended his hand to Stan. “Let’s start again. Name’s Olky. I’ve been the guardian of this here farm for, ah, four generations now.”

Stan blinked the sting out of his eyes. “Drew,” he lied easily, hoping that the kids wouldn’t give him away.

Olky eyed him thoughtfully. “Say, y’seem like a man who could use some cash.” From the rundown clothes and the rundown car and rundown face, Stan assumed.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

The nisse gestured for Stan to follow him away from the kids and the car. Stan hesitated, eyeing the little man with suspicion, before following. When they were out of earshot, the nisse waved again, for Stan to come down to his level.

“If you bite me I’ll punt you across the road,” Stan muttered, getting down on one knee.

Olky gave a pointed look to the baseball bat still firmly grasped in Stan’s hand. “Between the two of us, who seems more inclined to random acts of violence?”

“Ain’t random if it’s based on experience.”

Olky placed a small, weirdly warm hand at the back of Stan’s neck and leaned in to whisper, “See, there happens to be this lil’ cattle auction in town today, and I happen to be in the market for getting some cows.”

“Match made in heaven. What’s that got to do with me?”

“Well, first off, these people aren’t exactly the most… open minded types. They’re not gonna take any money from a nisse, or any other non-humans forr’at matter. Secondly…” He looked around. The kids has stayed put where they sat, but were clearly paying attention to them. The nisse pressed his head way into Stan’s personal space and whispered. “There’s a way to make this whole affair even more profitable. You said you people were just passing through the state?”

“Yeah?” No point in playing coy at this point.

Olky grinned, baring a set of sharp teeth. “Say you turn up and buy some decent livestock. You pay the good man with a check and we’re on our merry way. I keep the cows and you get a third of what they’re worth in clean cash. By the time you’re out the state, oh-uh, that check bounces. This guy scammed ‘em out of their cows! But where is he? And where’s the livestock? Surely not at some random farm that had nothing to do with the auction or the stranger passing through.”

As the nisse talked, a matching grin grew over Stan’s face. “I see what you’re saying.”

—  
  
—

He stood up straight and turned to the kids. “Change of plans. We’ll be sticking around here for a little while.”

The kids shared a look.

Ty raised a finger. “Are you sure that’s-?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Stan turned to the nisse. “He’s a question asker, but he knows when to keep his mouth shut.” The last bit was said a bit more in Ty’s direction. “I’ll just head to town and find somewhere they can hang around while we work.” It was still only midday, so a cheap diner should be fine – the kind of place where the staff was too dead inside to care if someone bought a plate of fries and stayed put for five hours.

“No!” Ty snapped. “I mean, uh, we could help, with the job, I mean. Or just wait in the car?”

And this was why it was better to always go it alone, Stan thought with no real heat to it. “No chance.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Destiny said. “We’ll be super bored, or something.”

“Yeah, well that’s life. Being bored builds character, or something.”

“I reckon my little one wouldn’t mind keeping them entertained while we’re out,” Olky said.

That made Stan pause. _“You_ got kids?”

Olky gave him a sour look. “No need to sound so surprised.”

He told them to continue down to the next off road – a bumpy, narrow dirt path that stopped at a lonely barn standing at the intersection of three fields. The barn hadn’t been repainted for a long time and the roof was bowing in towards the middle.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that he got over the whole you threatening him with a baseball bat thing so quickly?” Ty asked.

“Oh, you picked up on that, did you?” Stan snarked back. _”Maybe_ he’s hoping to get something out of it, huh? I wonder.”

They stepped out of the car. Olky was already waiting in front of the barn. “We’ll be using this place for storage. Hey, Rips!” He turned towards a pile of rocks at the edge of the circle of flattened grass and car tracks.

“Sorry, where are all the people – humans?” Ty asked. “Aren’t they going to wonder why a bunch of strangers are just hanging around their farm?”

Olky gave a dismissive wave. “The main house is across the road. No one comes out here this time of year. That’s why we’re using it.”

“Using it for what?”

“Now’s one of those times you shouldn’t be asking questions,” Stan said.

“Rips!” the nisse shouted again. “Get out here!”

Ty took a few steps away, looking down at the old tire tracks around the Stanleymobile and muttering to himself. “These tracks don’t make any sense.”

Stan ignored him, hoping that would be enough to shut him up. Ty moved came back and lowered his voice, keeping an eye on the hollering nisse. He scribbled something in his notepad. “Look, these tracks follow the road to just in front of the barn, where they’d be parked nose to the wall. When leaving, they’d have to perform a three point turn, like this.” He pointed to the scribble, showing two curves. “But the second curve’s missing completely.” He pointed with his pen to the tracks in the dirt. ”A bunch of cars have parked here, and then backed into the first turn, but then they just continue across that field, instead of heading back to the road.”

Stan sighed. “And what?” He did not need any distractions while doing business. Not that this deal had especially high stakes – if things went south with the nisse guy, Stan could just kick him over

An especially flat rock in the pile swung open and another nisse poked its nose out. “What?” she hollered back.

“Get Pin out here. We got guests. Drew here’s gonna help me with the cattle and the kids need something to do while they wait.”

Rips looked around, spotting the three humans and gave a minute nod. Stan thought he could spot irritation flash over her eyes as she set them on the kids, but it was gone before he could be sure, and next second, she’d gone back inside.

Next, a ridiculously tiny figure climbed out the rock pile and sprinted towards them. The kid could have fit in Stan’s palm no problem.

“Aww!” Destiny squealed, bouncing slightly on her heels. She was almost back at her usual levels of limitless energy. Apparently there was something to the whole Alpha Twin Constitution thing after all. 

“Interesting,” Ty mumbled, tapping his pen against the notepad. “Looks like female and infant nisse don’t have beards.” He flipped to the last page and started writing.

“Word of advice, Sport,” Stan said. “You’re gonna do a lot better with kids and the ladies if you quit talking like that.”

The nisse kid didn’t look especially offended. “What’re your names?”

I’m uh…” Destiny made a confused face. She glanced at Ty.

“Destiny,” Ty said sharply. “Your name is Destiny. And I’m Tyrone.”

The nisse child gave a little head tilt. “Those are weird names.”

“Yours a weird name,” Destiny countered with a tone of goodnatured teasing.

“Good, great, everyone’s making friends.” Stan clapped his hands together. “You two sit tight. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He threw the car keys to Ty.

“I really don’t think-” Ty started.

“Yeah you do,” Stan cut off. “That’s your whole problem.”

Olky lead him to a cattle truck parked behind the barn. “Hope you’ve driven anything bigger than that sad car before.”

“You worry about my money and I’ll handle the driving.”

Olky called back to his wife. “Get those two some of that hot chocolate we picked up last month.”

Stan could feel someone eyeing his back, and he turned to find Ty staring at him with a laughably serious expression. Destiny was happily chatting away to the little nisse, all smiles and no colds. Stan gave Ty a mocking wave and made a fart noise. “Lighten up, Knucklehead!”

—

Stan hadn’t been to a cattle auction before, but it was pretty much exactly as he would have imagined – loud, smelly and sweltering. Before the auction proper started, Olky had him walking up and down the rows of cattle, making him take note of a bunch of cows that looked no different from any others.

In the line for the registration window, he had plenty of time reading the signs slapped on the wall in a erratic formation. Most of it was boring information and instructions, but the white on red sign reading ‘Writers of bad checks will be beaten, stomped and stabbed and also prosecuted’ did catch his attention.

He carefully untightened his jaw, trying his best not to look nervous, or laugh. Would that defence hold up in court, he wondered. ‘Yeah, I did have Old Betty trample him to death, but the sign _did_ say I’d do that’.

The girl handing out numbers eyed him as he handed in the sheet of paper with a fake name and the address Olky had given him. She read it twice, before squinting at his face.

“Don’t recall hearing about a Honeyhill Farm around here.”

Stan smiled easily. “Yeah, me and the old man haven’t been to auctions since before your time. Always kept the buying and selling in the family until now, but it’s a first time for anything.”

The girl looked at him again before clicking her tongue and handing him a number. “I’ve been around here a whole lot longer than I look. No need for that condescending ‘before my time’ bull.”

Stan pocketed the piece of wood. “I’ll try and remember that for next time.”

He went inside and set his bag up so that Olky could peer out through the slight opening. When an animal he was interested in turned up, he’d jab Stan in the side through the bag, and Stan would start bidding. They won six bids in total. 

The auction came to an end and Stan wasn’t completely sure what he was supposed to do next.

“Go to the window and hand them your number,” Olky hissed from the bag.

Stan made his way through the crowd, to the window next to the one he’d gotten his number from.

“Found everything you were looking for?” the guy said as he took the wooden number badge off him.

“Oh yeah, and how.” Stan could have slapped himself at how unnatural that sounded.

He wrote the check, carefully keeping his eyes off the threatening red-white sign. It felt like the guy behind the window eyed the check for half an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds before he handed him a piece of paper to take to the people in the back.

He walked away, feeling like every step forward caused him to slip backwards slightly, like walking on ice. It was funny how this shit still made him twitchy, even after ten years of getting himself in trouble. More than ten years, if you counted all the wild shit he had done while still living at home.

He had had worse, he reminded himself. The memory of laying on his back in the trunk of a rusty scrapheap of a car, one knee shoved in his face and the other twisted up at a weird angle, came to mind. Water rushing in and being unable to think anything but that _this_ was how he’d die. Over time, it had become weirdly comforting to think about that night when he was in a stressful situations. Very few things had been near the same level of terrible. It made most things seem laughably small.

These people probably wouldn’t even assault a bad check writer if they had the chance,. Just call the cops and whine about it like a doddering old lady.

Loading the cattle on to the truck was a bit intimidating. Stan had some of experience dealing with cows that were _supposed_ to be angry, and where you could get out of it by jumping a fence. He had no idea how to keep them from _becoming_ agitated, or how to get them to go where you wanted them.

While he was trying to get one of the smaller – and probably younger – ones into the back of the truck, it started freaking out on him, pulling and thrashing against the rope tied around its neck.

Olky stuck his arm out the bag, holding the silver dollar. Light from something reflected of it, and like someone had pressed a button, the cow calmed down.

Something in the back of Stan’s mind found that funny, but he was more focused on getting all the animals into the the truck so he could finally get behind the wheel and leave all those watchful eyes behind.

The nisse crawled out of the bag the second they started moving and settled into the passenger seat with a satisfied smirk. “That was a good show. You nearly looked like you knew what you were doing.”

“Nearly looking like I know what I’m doing is my speciality. Now, where’s my money?”

Olky reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of tattered bills. It looked to be about the right size, so Stan decided to save counting it for later. That went surprisingly easy, he thought absently.

Dusk had fallen by the time they made it back to the farm. Stan backed the truck up as close to the barn as he felt confident. He stepped out, expecting to see the kids jumping out of the Stanleymobile, but there wasn’t even a peep from them from anywhere.

He peered inside, just about able to make out Ty and Destiny curled up in the backseat, clearly asleep. The doors were locked and everything looked to be in order.

“Help me get the stalls ready,” Olky called from inside the barn.

Stan cast one last look at the kids. He’d let them sleep until they needed to get going. It was going to be a long night of driving – he’d have to get out of Utah tonight, and preferably avoid stopping in either Colorado or New Mexico. He really couldn’t afford running into any old friends around those parts. Getting from here to Oklahoma was literally going to be a dusk to dawn kinda deal.

Just the thought of another one of those nights made him wonder if this really had been worth it. But then he thought about the money stuffed in his pocket. Even small amounts could make a big difference when you were hungry and cold.

He walked into the barn, nostrils filling with dust and dirt. The only light came from a flickering bulb on the wall. Olky was nowhere to be seen. There was a large hole in the concrete floor. It was hard to tell how deep it was in the low light. It might as well be bottomless. “Hey!” he called into the shadows. “You might wanna get that seen to. That thing’s an accident waiting…”

He turned around, finding himself uncomfortably close to the wrong end of a sharpened pitchfork. It was almost thrice Olky’s length, but he was still able to hold it steadily pointed in Stan’s face. He bared his sharp teeth in a predatory grin.

Well, this was depressingly familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wklv lv wkh zurqj judyh
> 
> (This plot was stolen from an episode of Forensic Files)


	7. The Old Barn, Totenglocke Farm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to worse to confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! This delay was brought to you by: a two week vacation, and the fact that this chapter kept ballooning and ballooning every time I thought I was close to finishing it.

“Seriously?” Stan leaned away from the prongs of the pitchfork. He had to admit, this was an actual surprise. Not because he was getting back stabbed by a business partner – because, c’mon – but because it was clearly such a bad move on Olky’s part. “Look, put that thing away and we’ll both get on our way and forget this happened.”

Olky’s smile grew even wider. “You really think you’re in a position to negotiate here, boy?”

“Guess not.” Stan moved forward, trying to kick the pitchfork out of the Olky’s grasp, but the nisse jumped backwards out of reach.

“Too slow.” He struck quick as a snake, jabbing the pitchfork into Stan’s extended leg.

Stan moved away, holding his thigh. “Sonova…!” The wounds weren’t life-threatening, but it was going to make it harder to run around. They were going to hurt like hell later too, but right now the pain was dulled by adrenaline.

—  
  
—

“I’m guessing you’ll be wanting that money back."

“All in good time. Just gotta tie up some loose ends first.”

Stan felt like the darkness from the pit was reaching out for him. “Hey, hey, no need for that. What am I gonna do? Go tell the cops I got scammed by a lawn decoration while _I_ was trying to commit a crime?”

“‘Course not. That’d be stupid. But you might tell ‘em at what farm they can find their lost cattle, and, oh, who owns that farm? Why it’s Mr. Johnson! And, what more? There’s all these mysterious graves all over the property. Why, that could only mean one thing!” The gleeful smile fell for a moment. “I’ve watched that man live a full life of hard work and dedication, and I’ll see him live his final days in comfort and without bother. And if I have to break a couple of rotten, useless eggs to do it, it’s no bother to me.”

Stan looked at the floor and could just about make out a series of concrete seams in the floor, forming a row of rectangles, the same size as the hole behind Stan. He looked back at the nisse and was met with a harsh laugh.

“See, that’s what’s great about drifters. Nobody knows ‘em. Nobody notices if they go away, and if they do, everyone assumes they moved on to the next town.”

Stan’s mind raced. It was just a three feet tall guy with a sharp stick. So what if he was quicker than he looked? Stan had the advantage of height and arm length. If he could find some kind of weapon…

His train of thought screeched to a halt. The kids. Fuck, he was stupid. He’d fallen for his own trick – assuming that this guy was harmless just ‘cause he had a kid – and then he’d left them alone out here with that tiny braud who was definitely in on this as well.

What would happen to them if he…? No, nothing was happening, ‘cause he’d wriggle his way out of this, like he always did.

Unless something had already happened. He should have checked on them properly. Why hadn’t he just told the little creep he could fix his own goddamn stalls, got in his car and driven away? He’d already had the fucking money!

“So this is what you do? Hire random bums to do your dirty work and bump them off so you won’t have to pay them?”

“I feel like that was pretty clear.” The nisse waved the pitchfork around.

Asking more questions wasn’t going to do him any good. He leapt at the little creep again and tried grabbing the handle, ready to wring it out of the nisse’s grasp. Olky moved quick again, and tried jabbing Stan in the gut. It was down to pure reflex that Stan managed to slap the fork with the side of his hand so it only nicked his hipbone instead. He didn’t even feel it.

The nisse was standing between him and the exit.

Speaking of not feeling things, Stan’s fingers were starting to go numb, and maybe the room was getting colder. It felt like blood loss except it couldn’t be. He hadn’t gotten anywhere near bad enough for that.

“You’re better of sitting down and taking it easy,” Olky said, his voice sounding further away than it should. “Let it take you away.”

Stan took a small step forward, but his foot wouldn’t lift off the ground.

The nisse raised the pitchfork. “Careful there, or maybe I’ll decide that letting those brats live isn’t worth the hassle after all.”

Stan snorted. What a pathetic attempt at manipulation. If this little monster hadn’t already… There was no way he was going to let them out of this alive if he was ready to kill Stan to keep him from going to the cops. The only chance any of them had was for Stan to get to the car.

The nisse went on and it sounded like he was slowly moving away even though he wasn’t. Did this guy ever shut up? “The wife’s a fine potion-mixer. She made them up a nice sleeping-forgetting combo. They’ll wake up in the morning without a clue what’s happened the past few days. We’ll make sure they get to the right authorities and this’ll all be written off as another dead-beat father ditching his spawns.”

If it was a lie it was a weird one. Stan would’ve gone for some speech about never wanting to harm the innocent and knowing what it was like to be a parent and all that jazz. It was a little bit funny that this guy thought those two would be traced back to him at all. If they did forget the past few days, they’d forget meeting him all together – had it really only been two days?

He only had time to register that there was _something_ at the upper edge of his vision before that something crashed to the ground and exploded into a cloud of straw It stunk of mould and Stan’s nose and throat filled with tiny bits of dry grass, but he didn’t have time to get choked up.

He pulled a reserve of energy from somewhere and threw himself towards where he thought the door was, forcing his way through the straw settled on the floor. His foot came down on something with the tell-tale combo of give and firmness of a leg or arm, and he ground his heel down just that extra bit. A high-pitched whine came from under the straw.

He emerged out into the evening air, glad to be breathing air that wasn’t heavy with dust. In his rush to get away, he forgot where the truck was and nearly ran into the back of it before swerving around it. It was only when his hand was on the car door that he remembered that he’d given the key to the kids. “Hey!” He banged the roof. “Wake up!”

Best case scenario, if the beardy bastard had told the truth, they were knocked out on magic drugs and wouldn’t wake up for hours. Stan would just have to smash the window, ‘cause he wasn’t spending another second in this nightmare place.

He was already turned around to look for a rock when his brain caught up with what his eyes had noticed. There was nobody in the car. Now, he couldn’t say for sure if he’d actually seen them when he first looked in or if that had just been two vaguely person-shaped parts of the junkpile in the backseat.

Another dark pit opened up in his chest, but right before the horror swallowed him, the car bounced from a shadow landing on the roof.

“Are you okay?” Destiny yelled as she climbed down from the car.

Stan stared at her like a moron. “What the fudge is going on!?” Was he hallucinating from blood loss?

Ty landed next to him with an ‘oof’, clearly regretting jumping rather than sliding down the side of the car. “We figured it out,” he said, voice tight from trying to speak through pain.

“Figured what- Never mind. Just give me the keys.” He reached out towards Ty.

“We can’t just leave! These people are dangerous and-”

“And that’s exactly why we’re going.” Stan snapped. He really wanted to sit down.

 _“And_ they’re going to try doing this again if we don’t stop them!”

The image of the graves in the concrete floor flashed in front of Stan’s eyes. Morons like him who’d not had the same luck. He glanced at the barn, knowing the nisse could come barreling out any second.

“Not to us though. We’re getting out of here.”

He moved to grab Ty and take the keys off him, but the moment he tried taking a step, his legs folded like a jackknife.

“Stan!”

One of the kids moved in front of him, hiding the barn from his swimming vision. A small hand settled on his arm. The kids chattered to each other but it was getting kinda hard keeping the words in his head long enough to understand them.

“You’re bleeding! Dipper, he’s-!”

“I know. We need to get help. We can’t…”

Ty moved out of his line of sight, and Stan could see the barn again. Olky was standing at the back of the truck, leaning on the pitchfork and gritting his teeth against the pain. His eyes were burning with rage.

“You…!” he hissed.

Stan tried getting to his feet, but quickly realised that that wasn’t going to help any. His vision was going funny, so he wasn’t going to be able to drive anyway. He hadn’t been hurt _that_ badly. Why was he losing it like this?

“You two, get out-”

A click and a high pitched whir to the side of his head. Something shot forward and knocked Olky in the head with a clang. The nisse crumbled to the ground without a peep.

Destiny was holding a pink – hairdryer? Except it had a rope coming out of the muzzle. She pressed a button on the side and the rope wound back, pulling back the hook she’d shot at Olky’s head. For what was starting to feel like the billionth time, Stan was gobsmacked.

After a strange pause Ty said, “Sometimes I’m kinda scared of you.” He turned back to Stan. “He’s looking really bad. We’ve gotta get help.”

“From _where?_ There’s like, nobody around here.”

Ty was quiet for a moment. “Not necessarily.” He pulled his notepad out and started talking rapidly. “If nisse are similar to gnomes they probably live in similar groupings. And if they’re so obsessed with being smarter than gnomes, they probably have some kind of law enforcement.”

“Cool cool cool,” Destiny said. “And exactly _how_ are we gonna find them?”

Ty turned his notepad toward her. “By making them find _us.”_

There was no way Stan was going to let the authorities get involved – especially not a bunch of tacky lawn decoration cops. He tried saying as much but a spike of pain shot down his leg and all that came out was a groan. 

“It’s okay,” Ty said. “I know what I’m doing.” After a pause he added. “And it isn’t weird that I know this stuff.”

He took a few steps away, cleared his throat and started muttering a string of weird gibberish. A circle of blue light appeared in the air around him, and wind rose up from the ground.

And as quick as it all had appeared, the light vanished and the wind stilled.

“What the actual heck was that?” Stan didn’t have the energy, physically or emotionally, to yell.

“Standard distress call spell,” Ty said, like that was a thing. “It can be picked up by other magic users, which includes magical creatures. It’s a bit of a risk using it in places with dangerous anomalies, but in a low-weirdness area like this-” He went quiet out of nowhere.

Had the nisse got back on his feet? Stan’s eyes had slid down the the ground in front of him, and it took some effort to lift them again. But Olky was still laying knocked out in the dirt. Actually, the kids were looking at _him_ , worried expressions etched on their faces.

“What did he do to you?” Ty asked.

Stan groped behind him until he got his hand on the car and could drag himself to his feet. “It’s no big thing. He got me a few times with that pitchfork, but it’s only scratches.” He looked at the kids again and it was obvious they didn’t believe him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Destiny said.

And he sure as heck didn’t _feel_ fine, even though that made no sense with the injuries he’d gotten. It had to be tiredness, or stress, or _something_ that made sense. “Eh, I just need a quick nap and I’ll be right as all get out.” He shivered. “Let’s sit in the car and you can explain exactly what you’ve ‘figured out’. Also where you got that thing.” He pointed to the pink hairdryer.

Ty looked very stressed, while Destiny waved the grappling gun around with unnerving casualness. “It was a gift from one of our friends – he’s a robot scientist.”

Stan could see the moment Ty decided to give up on panicking and just let this one go. “Robotics engineer,” he corrected.

—  
  
—

“It’s great! It lifts and lowers, and it’s super-strong. Also, it can do this!”

Destiny pressed a button to the side of the trigger and a tinny female voice spoke. “Current altitude is SATELLITE LINK CANNOT BE ESTABLISHED meters above sea level.”

“Aww man.” Destiny glared at the grappling gun.

“Anyway!” Ty exclaimed. “Let’s sit down and wait for help.” He handed Stan the car key.

“Wait for _me_ to get awake enough to get out of here,” Stan corrected. He cast one last look at the fainted nisse before getting in behind the wheel and locking the door.

The car wasn’t much warmer than the outside, but at least the seat was more comfortable than the ground. Stan leaned his head back and shut his eyes. Destiny poked him in the arm.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. We’ve got a story to tell.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” Stan muttered, opening one eye. “Unless this story is real boring.”

Ty sat up a little straighter in the back and cleared his throat. “Well, after you two left, we decided to go exploring and see what we could figure out.”

—

Rips went inside to prepare hot chocolate, after telling them several times to not go far. Like, several times, which was enough for both Ty and Destiny to want to go see what they could find. Pin was a little nervous about disobeying his mom, but Destiny insisted that it was totally going to be fine. Clearly, the kid was bored to death all the way out here – and probably a bit lonely too – because it didn’t take a lot of convincing.

They tried the door to the barn, but it was locked. Ty wanted to follow the car tracks he had been obsessing over earlier. They lead all the way across the field, ending at a mud hole, or a pound, or something. The tracks continued right into the water, and when Ty… took a closer look, he could see that there were several cars down in the mud.

Pin didn’t know how they got there and was growing more and more uneasy the longer they were away from the barn.

On the way back, they saw that there was an opening just under the roof of the barn, which had probably been used for loading hay into the attic. If the door was locked there must be something interesting inside, Ty figured. So they decided to investigate.

But before they had the chance to scale the wall, Rips voice echoed from around the corner. Pin jumped and immediately wanted them to go to her. Ty and Destiny agreed reluctantly, thinking that they didn’t want to get on Raps’ or Pin’s bad sides.

Back at the rock pile, Rips had come outside with a tray of three mugs – one of them doll sized. She asked where they had been, and the kids lied and said that they’d been around the back of the barn the whole time. If Raps thought they were lying, she didn’t feel the need to press. Apparently it was more important that they tried her special recipe for hot chocolate. Even Destiny, who loved hot chocolate, thought that was kinda strange.

—  
  
—

Ty took one of the mugs, but under his breath, he mumbled “Broccoli”, which, of course, meant ‘let’s do that thing were we pretend to eat something but actually, we’re putting it our pockets or feeding it to the cat’. Or in this case, sneakily dumping it on the ground.

Once the mugs were empty, Rips started asking them if they didn’t want to sit down for a bit, or if they felt sleepy. That made things pretty clear, in Ty’s opinion. Between the weird tracks and sunken cars, Rips’ weird behavior, and Stan’s secrecy, something was definitely wrong.

They went to sit in the car, watching Rips take Pin inside the rock pile. The little nisse was yawning up a storm. Some time later, the door opened again. The kids closed their eyes and pretended to be asleep. They could hear a soft pitter-patter as Rips neared and rounded the car to get to the passenger side, where Destiny was sitting.

She opened the door and Destiny kicked her right in the chest hard enough to topple her. It took both kids to subdue the nisse and force the syringe out of her hand. Rips screamed the whole time, in a ear-shattering pitch.

They tied Rips up with Destiny’s yarn and brought her back to the rock pile. Pin was asleep on the small sofa in the kitchen and didn’t even stirr when the kids entered with Rips, who was still chattering and acting like nothing was wrong.

They tried interrogating her, but she just kept insisting that it was all some kind of misunderstanding and that they should try some hot chocolate.

While Destiny kept trying to nag the truth out of Rips (“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…”), Ty investigated the nisse home. He didn’t any reference for what was normal for a nisse living space, but as far as he could tell, the only strange thing in the kitchen was that the chocolate powder had some sparkly grains of something in it.

The only other room was a small bedroom, which at first glance looked pretty normal as well. Ty got down to check under the bed, but it was too low to the ground for him to see anything. Then he realised that the bed was tiny and easy to lift.

There was a small wooden box right under the centre of the bed. Ty brought it into the kitchen and set it down on the table. Raps went dead quiet for a moment, before continuing talking, louder and faster now. She told them how rude it was to go looking through other people’s things and that they’d better put that back because they were going to regret seeing what was inside.

Ty looked her straight in the eye and opened the box.

The content looked pretty random on their own – an envelope with a stamp and no address, a necklace chain, some crumpled up receipts and a ring clearly made for a human sized finger. But together, they painted a pretty bad picture.

They asked Raps where all the stuff came from, but she wouldn’t answer. Instead she started telling them that they’d better get away from there before her husband came back, or they’d regret it.

They didn’t know how long Pin was going to be asleep for and decided to tie her- or him? Come to think of it, Ty had never thought to ask if they were a boy or a girl. They tied Pin up too and went outside to look in the barn.

There was nothing but old rotting hay in the attic, but when Destiny peered through the opening to the downstairs, she saw the hole in the concrete floor.

—

They all got really quiet for a moment.

“Those two must’ve been doing this for years,” Ty said. “Who knows how many people they’ve…”

Stan breathed slowly. “That’s just how it is. Some people get themselves stuck in bad situations and some people make their way through by screwing other people over. People get killed every day, all the time. You can’t go crying over all of them otherwise that’s all you’ll ever do.”

“You were about to be one of those people,” Ty said dryly.

“I’ve been about to be a whole lotta things in my time. This…” He patted his thigh, ignoring the lack of sensation in his fingers. “...is no big deal.” If he kept repeating it to himself enough, he’d start feeling it eventually. “What’d you do after that?”

“Well, we went back outside to talk to Raps again. We didn’t know what else to do. But you two got back before we got there. When you went into the barn, we climbed back into the attic.”

“And then we pushed a ball of hay in that meany’s head!” Destiny added.

Stan had to admit, at least to himself, he was maybe a little impressed. Mainly confused as all get out, but also impressed. “What _are_ you two?”

The kids looked at each other.

“Just two normal kids with normal interests and abilities,” Ty said.

“Not a lot of normal kids who can take down a killer hillbilly dwarf.”

Ty shrugged. “We’re just a good team.”

“Yeah!” Destiny punched Ty in the shoulder “He’s got the brain stuff down, and I’ve got the other thing.”

Stan smiled. “Brute strength?”

“Social skills!”

Ty gave her a playful shove. “Shut up,” he laughed.

Stan felt dizzy again and couldn’t quite breathe all of a sudden. It was either the adrenaline leaving his body, or relief because the kids were chattering away like normal and hadn’t been drugged or hurt or worse.

“Stop it! Don’t fall asleep.” Destiny shook him. “Right?”

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Ty stuttered. “Maybe they gave him some of the same stuff Raps tried giving us?”

Stan wished they’d just stop talking for a second. He just needed to shut his eyes. It’d been a long time since the last time he got some decent sleep. In the distance, something sounded _almost_ like a siren echoed across the fields, except with a bassy, croaky quality to it. It was pretty annoying, but Stan had slept through worse.

Voices bounced around his head, words indistinguishable. He recognised three of them, but the other ones were complete unknowns. The kids sounded panicked, The third voice sounded smug and gleeful.

_You’re actually just going to sit there and die, huh? Sixer must have been really desperate when he decided to trust you._

Orange lights moved beyond his eyelids. There was a warm spot on his upper arm that sent tendrils of prickling sensation through his veins. It was a funny mix of irritating and pleasant.

“Sir. Sir, can you hear me?”

Stan blinked.

“Sir, can you please confirm whether or not you can hear me?”

Stan rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, yeah. Quit yelling.”

“I’m hardly yelling,” said the voice, mildly irritated.

Stan looked through the open car door and the tiny woman in a white tunic standing there. She’d somehow managed to turn Stan halfway to the side and pull his injured leg out of the car. He realised that his jeans had been pulled down to his knees. Luckily he was spared some awkwardness by his jacket laying across his lap.

He lifted the jacket enough to see the bandages around his thigh before tugging the it tighter around his waist and clearing his throat awkwardly. “I could’ve managed that myself.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, dear. That death curse was a tad nasty, but a few minutes from lil’ Gullan is going to fix that,” the nisse added, like this was just the same old Tuesday stuff.

“From who?” Stan went to scratch his hair and felt something slimy move against his skin.

Looking down, he saw a sparkly, yellow leech attached to his upper arm. “Yeurgh!”

He moved to snatch it off, but the nisse slapped his hand away. “Unless you feel like dying within the next four hours, I suggest you leave that be. All she wants to do is suck all that bad magic right out of you. And also some blood. It’ll make you feel a whole lot better.”

“I feel _fine.”_ Stan muttered, rubbing the back of his hand.

“You’re not fine! You’re hurt!”

“Yeesh!” Stan flinched at the sudden shout.

Destiny had been standing out of sight by the backseat door. She looked up at him, pale-nosed and with a worried turn to her mouth. 

Stan hesitated for a second, but he couldn’t find it in him to make her worry more. He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Fine, you little freak. I’ll take your weird slug buddy.” 

“Of course you will,” the nisse said. “That glamour still hasn’t passed yet.”

Stan looked down at his grimy, bloody t-shirt and dirty jacket, and then back up with a furrowed brow.

“Not _that_ kind of glamour,” the nisse sighed. “You’ve been enchanted into being more susceptible to suggestion. Honestly, do you know anything about magic?”

“Do I look like I know anything about magic?” Stan snapped.

A nisse in all black was approaching them. “Sir, I would like to ask you a few questions.”

Worst words in the world. But coming up with a credible lie was pretty easy. Olky must’ve told the truth about magic critters not being welcome at cattle auctions, because that part didn’t even get a follow-up question.

“So you were going to write a check for the cattle, and Mr. Olky would give you the money plus a commission for you to deposit into your account?”

“That’s right, Sir,” Stan said.

The nisse cop walked away and tension drained out of Stan’s body. If this day could end now that’d be real nice. He turned all the way to the side, planting both feet on the ground, so he could get a look at the scene outside.

A dozen or so nisse, all dressed in black, were milling about the barn. Olky was sitting with his back against the wall of the barn, being interrogated by a pair of nisse. He looked like he was struggling to wrap his head around what had happened while he was knocked out – much like Stan. Other nisse were poking around the ground, while one poor sucker had been trapped in a conversation with Ty.

Destiny leaned against the passenger door, watching him intently. Stan felt like he was supposed to say something, but couldn’t think of what.

The sky above was clear and the stars were brightly defined, like a star chart from a book. When he was a kid, he’d thought the stars had actual lines between them, like in books, but that you could only see them if you got far enough away from the city lights and if there were no clouds. Sometimes he’d thought he could make them out, even when Ford told him that that wasn’t how it worked.

His eyes sought out the Northern Star with the thoughtless precision of a well-practiced motion. It was the star seafarers had used for however many years to navigate the open ocean.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget how to locate it in the sky.

“It was pretty brave of you – saying sorry about that whole mirror thing.” It popped out of his mouth without him even considering saying it.

Destiny furrowed her brow. “How’s that brave?”

Stan shrugged, leaning his chin in his hand, ignoring the feeling of the leech moving against his skin. “It’s just, it can be hard to own up to your mistakes sometimes.”

Destiny scrunched her face up in a thoughtful kind of grimace. “I guess I just say what I wanna say, most of the time. If I feel sorry I say I’m sorry.”

Stan smiled because it all sounded so simple when said like that. “Me too. I’m pretty good at saying what I wanna say.” Something twinched in his stomach. “Guess I’m just not very good at wanting to apologize.”

“Maybe you just need practice.” She said it like it wasn’t a big thing. “If you apologize a bunch of times maybe it’ll get easier after a while.” She kicked at the ground before adding. “You could start by saying sorry to Dipper for not listening to him earlier.”

Stan nearly choked on his own spit.

“I mean Tyrone or whatever!” she yelled, making Stan start away from her.

“Yeah, that one’s kind of out of the bag, kiddo. You used his nickname when you were apologizing, remember?”

“Nope. I don’t remember anything after this morning. I have _no idea_ where we are.”

Stan laughed. “Hey, that’s cheating. Embarrassing yourself is easy if you don’t even have to remember it.”

Destiny giggled, and then she went quiet. Her amusement took on a sad tinge. “I know it might be scary, but it’s gonna make you feel lots better.” She looked bizarrely old then. 

“How do you know? And if you say ‘future vision’ again, I’m gonna whap you.”

Destiny blew a raspberry. “I don’t need future vision to know that. That’s just hard science facts.”

Stan reached out and ruffled her hair. “If you say so.” He looked ahead, spotting Ty by the barn. He’d gotten his notepad out again but he wasn’t writing in it, just staring down at the page. Stan couldn’t see his face.

Stan covertly hoisted his pants back up and stood straight, cringing at the feeling of the leech moving against his arm.

“Hey, Dipper.”

Ty nearly jumped out of his socks. “Yeah!?” he half-yelled, before clearing his throat and continuing at a normal volume. “What’s up?”

“Listen, uh, kid. I’m…” Seriously? What the heck was with him? “Thinking back on it, I can see where you were coming from with all that stressing and suspicion.” He laughed awkwardly. “If I’d listened to you I’d never had to wear this gross-patch.” He gestured to the leech.

Ty didn’t react to the joke.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is… You were right.” There. That was as close as he was going to get. It was weirdly excruciating, but felt like a relief at the same time.

Ty pressed his lips together in a tight line. He looked down at his notepad. “No. You were.”

“Uh, I think you’re kinda missing the point of this whole apologizing thing. In case you forgot, I’m the one missing a chunk of leg.”

Ty somehow looked even more dour from that. “I need to talk to…” He went around Stan to walk up to his sister. Stan couldn’t hear what he said, but Destiny stood straight and followed him into the field.

“Hey!” Stan called. “Stay close. We gotta get going soon.”

So much for apologizing making things better. Stan was more confused than ever, and Ty didn’t seem any happier from it.

Three nisse emerged from the rock pile, two holding on to a spitting mad Raps, and the third one carrying Pin, who was still asleep. Kid wasn’t going to have a good time waking up. Everything safe and constant in their life would suddenly have been swept away while they were sleeping. But who knew how safe that life had been in the first place, with parents like that.

Stan felt like he was going down a river without a paddle and something important forgotten on the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yhub ihz wklqjv hqg zhoo lq wklv zruog
> 
> (I wanted to draw something for Stan and Mabel's conversation but that involved trying to draw a car and it shattered me.)


	8. South-Eastern Utah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the gang finally be able to get out of Utah?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, I thought this chapter was going to be quick and easy to finish, since most of it was already written by the time the last one came out. But then..... THINGS happened....
> 
> Anyway, this might be the chapter I've been most excited about so far, but also the most nervous. Think of this as my version of 'Bottomless Pit' and 'Little Gift Shop of Horrors'.

The kids had been in a weird mood ever since they took off from the farm. Whatever they’d talked about had ended in some kind of disagreement. Stan had watched Destiny march away from Ty, face scrunched up and pouty. She went straight up to the car and hopped in without saying a word, grabbed the door with both hands and slammed it shut with all the force she could manage.

Stan had tried prodding her for what had happened, but she only smiled and joked it away. All Stan could do was guess, based on nothing, what they’d gotten so upset over. The kids hadn’t said a word to each other since.

They stopped in the next town over. At first, Stan had wanted to go on and put some good distance between them and the mad magic murder farm. But his vision was swimming and his arms ached, and if he just got some sleep he might be able to think straight again.

The motel room was heavenly warm and smelled like cheap disinfectant instead of mold and cigarettes. Ty flicked the switch and the room lit up without so much as a flicker. “Well,” he said, not bothering to hide his surprise. “This is a lot nicer.”

Stan shrugged. “Figured we could afford to splurge a bit, since we’ve got all this money we nearly died twice for.”

The joke landed with a tired ‘thud’. Destiny almost looked at Ty, but stopped herself. Ty looked hurt for a moment, before shifting back into irritated and nervous. “I need too, uh, pee,” he said and rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Stan and Destiny in awkward silence.

Stan went to sit in one of the beds. Well, here went nothing. “You wanna talk about whatever it is you two’re fighting over?”

Destiny kneeled on the chair under the window, pretending to be deeply interested in the brickwall on the opposite side of the street. “We’re not fighting. Dipper’s just a little bit…“ She held up her thumb and forefinger and looked down at them like she was trying to figure out what she was supposed to be measuring between them. “...Jumpy.”

“Uh-huh.” Stan leaned his head on his knuckles. “And what is it he’s so jumpy about?”

“‘Cause every little thing isn’t following his over detailed plan,” she said with an unusual sharpness. Then she quickly covered her mouth and looked sheepish. “But, I’m probably not supposed to say that. It’s just…” she went on in the same breath. “Nothing _ever_ goes exactly like his plans and it all turns out fine in the end, so I don’t get why this is different.”

Something was off. “What plan? Getting into a random car and hoping it’ll take you in the direction you’re going?”

Destiny leaned her chin on her folded arms. “It’s secret,” she said sullenly.

“Why is it that you two feel like you gotta be so secretive the whole time?”

Destiny gave a loud sigh. “That’s what I wanna know. Everything would be so much easier if we just explained everything.”

“Who said you can’t?”

“Dipper. He understands this stuff better than me.”

Stan laughed. “That kid doesn’t understand the first thing about being on the run.” As he spoke, Destiny’s word fully registered in his mind.

It was Ty’s decision to stay so secretive, even about things that couldn’t possibly matter. 

It wasn’t a cult.

The realisation hit him suddenly, without him realizing how he got there. The insistence on secrecy wasn’t coming from indoctrination from some adult – it was a choice the kids, Ty specifically, was making, for whatever reason.

Now he recognised what it was that had been niggling away at him since they left the farm – a grappling gun was a really stupid thing to give to someone you were trying to control. What kind of cult would let one of their members, especially a wild kid like Destiny, get their hands on something that could get them to places they weren’t supposed to, or put a hole through walls and faces? It was just _begging_ for trouble. It was completely ‘anti-theatrical’ (or whatever the word was) to everything a cult was.

Maybe this robot-maker guy Destiny mentioned had acted against the group, because he’d realised the cult was messed up, or because he bought the cute kids act. But remembering those muscle bound, uniformed dorks back at the gas station, if that was the kind of security these guys sent out into the world, they probably kept a pretty close eye on the people already under their thumb. It couldn’t be easy getting the materials and privacy required to build something in secret.

Destiny wasn’t exactly the queen of discretion. There was no way she could’ve kept something like that secret for very long. It only made sense for her to have that thing if whoever was responsible for her had okayed it, and no self respecting cult leader would’ve. Back in Florida, they hadn’t even been allowed forks outside of the kitchen.

Maybe there was some far fetched explanation for how two kids in a cult could’ve gotten their hands on a grappling gun, but there had to be a simpler, more likely answer. One that explained those guys at the gas station too.

The toilet flushed and Ty came back out into the room. He looked disheveled, with his hair standing up in all directions. It reminded Stan of Ford with his nervous tick of running his hands through his hair until it stood up tall as his head.

Destiny went into the bathroom without saying anything to her brother.

—

Stan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. They were heading towards the uneasiest leg of the journey. The quickest way to Jersey would’ve been straight through Colorado, but that wasn’t going to work. It would be bad enough if he was recognised by the Colorado cops while alone, but with two random kids from however many states away… Yeah, he’d be lucky to see sunlight again.

No, the idea was to get to Oklahoma, change plates and then book it through Arkansas and Tennessee. He was going to have to go through New Mexico, at least some of the way, but that should be fine. Rico wasn’t about the scour the whole state for a roach like Stan.

The kids _still_ acted weird around each other. Stan was honestly kinda impressed in their ability to hold a grudge (if that’s what it was). At their age, him and Ford would slip up and talk to each other just a couple of hours after fighting.

Still, Stan would put his head through the windscreen if he had to deal with this silence for that much longer.

“Right.” He turned the radio down. “How’s about a story to pass the time? You wanna hear about this one time-” Nope, none of the Collombia stories. “When I was…” And Floridia probably wasn’t any good for kids who were – maybe, probably not – running from a cult themselves.

“I know a story,” Destiny said, sitting up straight.

Stan’s shoulders relaxed.

“It’s called _The Princess and The Dancing Fairies.”_

Okay, so maybe awkward silence was preferable.

—

Once upon a time there was a prince and princess living in a big white castle with their great-uncle who was a great and powerful wizard king. All the prince and princess wanted was to go out into the woods and have adventures, but their uncle never let them. He’d always say, “It’s too dangerous for little kids to go out into the woods.”

For a long long time, the prince and princess tried to be good and stay inside. But outside their window, in the highest tower of the castle, fairies would dance every evening. The prince never wanted to go outside, because he was scared that their great-uncle would ban him for life from his big library of magic and science, but the princess just wanted to dance with the fairies.

Her brother always said, “Wait until tomorrow. Maybe our uncle will let us go out into the woods then.”

And the princess did her best to wait, but one night she just couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard she tried. She got out of bed and looked out at the dancing fairies, shining in every color of the rainbow.

She snuck out of their room and down the hallway and the stairs to the secret exit at the back of the castle. The castle always had guards patrolling day and night, but the princess was sneaky like a cat and got past all of them super easy. The fairies flew away from the window and over the tall fence around the castle.

The princess knew a spot where there was a hole, just big enough for someone small to get through. When she got there, she stopped and thought about what her brother and her uncle had said for one last time. But the lights in the forest were so pretty and the night was warm and wonderful. And so she climbed through the hole and ran into the woods.

The fairies brought her to their magical dance floor in a beautiful glade. It was full of glowing mushrooms and pretty flowers and they danced all night without getting tired.

When the sun started to rise the princess had to hurry back home. All the fairies were very sad and said, “Please, please, stay! It’s so much funner with you here and the castle is so boring.”

The princess said, “I’m really sorry, but I have to go home. My brother and uncle will worry a lot if I’m not there when they wake up.”

“Your uncle is a mean old man!” said the fairies, and suddenly they were a lot less cute and a lot more scary. “He kidnaps us and puts us in jars!”

The princess said, “That’s not very nice. I’ll ask him to stop that. And I’ll come back to dance tomorrow night again. I promise.”

The princess ran as fast as she could all the way home and made it back in bed just before their uncle knocked on the door to wake them up. At breakfast, the princess asked her uncle why he was putting fairies in jars.

“It’s for science,” was all he said. Because that was always what he said whenever the prince and princess asked him any questions.

Later, when the prince and the princess had gone off to play on their own, because the king had to do boring magicy, sciency stuff, the prince said: “I know you went out in the forest last night! Even though you promised Great-Uncle the King that you wouldn’t. I’m a dweeb who only ever does as my great-uncle tells me.”

—

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what the prince said,” Ty grumbled.

“No it was. It’s my story.”

—

The prince was scared that their uncle wouldn’t allow him to read books about magic and mysteries anymore. But the princess said, “He doesn’t even let you learn about the _really_ exciting stuff! And anyways, I’m pretty sure you’ll learn a lot more about fairies from actually meeting them than from reading some boring old book.”

The prince really wanted to see all the weird things in the forest for himself. So the next night, they both snuck out of the castle and went to the fairies dancing glade. The prince brought his nerdy notepad. The princess was wearing her very best dancing clothes and looked super stylish.

But when they came to the fairy glade, it was all dark and empty. None of the mushrooms glowed and all the flowers had closed their petals like they were sleeping. The princess called, “Hello? Hello-o? Anybody home?”

Then! All the fairies jumped out from their hiding places! They grabbed the prince and princess and tied them up with sparkly spider web string and made them float in the air with their magic glitter dust.

The queen of the fairies sat on her toadstool throne with her crown and fancy royal staff and she said, “We really hate your great-uncle for all the things he’s done to us. And now we’re gonna put both of you in a jar! Let’s see how _he_ likes it.” And she giggled evilly.

The princess was really scared and sorry that she’d brought her brother with her. She looked at the queen and said, “Hey, have you done something with your hair?”

“Why, yes,” the queen said, running her fingers through her long, pink hair. “It’s this new conditioner I’m using.”

“Well, it looks amazing, and it really frames your face very well.”

“Why, thank you. How delightful you are, little girl. It’s a shame we have to imprison you to teach your great-uncle a lesson.”

And they threw the prince and princess into a big jar and screwed on the lid, which didn’t have any holes in it. The prince started getting all panicky because he was scared of running out of air. The princess tried smashing the glass but it didn’t work.

All the fairies giggled and clapped their hands. But then they heard a voice shouting for the prince and princess. It was their great-uncle! He came running into the glade with his magic science gun and said, “If you don’t let my niece and nephew go this instant, I’ll blast all of you!”

The fairy soldiers flew at him with their spears. He tried shooting at them but they were so small and quick that he couldn’t hit them. They stabbed him with their spears, which were very tiny and didn’t hurt very much, except that there were so many of them. The king said, “Ow! Owie! Stop that!”

The fairy queen flew over to the jar, and shouted, “Quit attacking, or I will turn your little wards into toads!”

The king stopped fighting. He looked very scared and he said, “Please, don’t hurt them! They are only children. Let’s talk about this. What are your demands?”

The fairy queen laughed in a mean way. “All I ask is that you learn the suffering we have had to endure, because of you. I watched my children get trapped and used in your purposeless pursuit of understanding what is beyond you. Maybe we shall keep them until they grow old and die. And _you_ can die knowing it’s all your fault.”

Just then, the prince had an idea. They both threw themselves against the side of the jar, so it wobbled and almost fell. They did it again, and the jar fell on its side and started rolling. They ran inside it like a giant hamster ball, making it go faster and faster. The fairies squeaked and shouted and flew after them.

The ground was bumpy and the jar bounced all over the place, and the prince and princess had no way of turning and it was really dark, so they couldn’t really see where they were going either.

A huge tree suddenly appeared in front of them, and there wasn’t any way they were going to be able to stop before they hit it. The prince yelled and wanted to try and slow down, but the princess had a better idea. She said, “Run as fast as you can! You gotta trust me.”

And he did. They ran fast, and the jar rolled faster and faster. Just before it hit the tree, the prince and princess hugged to protect their faces. The jar _smashed_ into the tree and shattered in a million pieces! They were really dizzy and a little bit hurt and couldn’t stand up right away.

The king ran after them. He saw them on the ground and got really worried for a moment. He said, “Oh no no no no,” to himself.

But it was okay. The prince and princess sat up and said, “We’re fine, Great-Uncle. Don’t worry.”

The king got angry and shouted at them, “I told you not to go out in the woods! If you’re going to stay with me you have to do as I say, or I’ll send you away.”

The princess was feeling pretty silly for trusting the fairies, and she wasn’t gonna say anything, even though she thought their great-uncle was being kinda unfair. But the prince suddenly started yelling, “It isn’t fair! You always say how the world is an amazing, magical place, but when we want to go out and see it, you say it’s too dangerous. All we want is to go on adventures with you, but you don’t trust us at all. And you never let me read about any of the exciting stuff in your books, and that’s unfair too.”

The princess said, “Yeah! It’s so boring in the castle and there so much fun stuff to do in the forest.”

Their great-uncle didn’t know what to say for a while. The prince and princess were worried that he’d start yelling again, but all of a sudden he looked very sad. He said, “I’m sorry if I have been boring. I only want to keep you safe. When I went to check on you and you were gone, it terrified me more than I can explain.”

The prince and princess felt a bit guilty when they saw how upset their great-uncle had been. The princess said, “It’s okay to be worried, but you can’t go around worrying about every little thing all the time. That just makes life boring. And besides, we’re a lot tougher than we look!”

Their uncle laughed and looked a little bit less sad. “I suppose I can understand you wanting adventures. I was a lot like you two, when I was a kid. If you promise not to sneak off alone at night, I promise I’ll take you out during the day to look at all the wonderful things in the forest.”

That sounded like a good deal, so the prince and the princess agreed.

They all walked home together, and on the way, their great-uncle pointed out a ton of weird and creepy things they walked past. Some of it was really boring, because their great-uncle was a nerd who didn’t know how to explain things in a way that made sense, but he tried, and that is the most important thing.

Before the prince and the princess went back to bed, the princess said, “Great-Uncle, will you promise not to put any more fairies in jars? Now that I know what it’s like, I can see why they hate it so much.”

Their great-uncle said, “Well, it is all very important for science and that stuff. But, maybe I can try asking more questions in the future, instead of sticking things in jars to look at them.”

And after that, things got a lot more fun around the castle, even if their great-uncle was still a worry wart who kept a lot of things secret, and even though him and the prince were big old nerds who read way too many heavy books.

The End!

—  
  
—

“Wow.” Stan needed a moment to figure out what to say. “What a nice story. I mean, it didn’t make any sense and had a lot of extra bits in it that weren’t necessary, but other than that.”

“Hey! It made great sense too,” Destiny said with unshaken confidence.

“Why was the king, what, a science-wizard on top of everything else? Shouldn’t he be busy going to political meetings and ruling the country instead of studying fairies?”

“The kingdom was ruled with science.”

It couldn’t be a coincidence that this fairytale featured a great-uncle, like the UFO-guy. A couple of days ago Stan would’ve dismissed the whole thing as pure fantasy, but after having come face to face with _multiple_ storybook creatures, dancing fairies and magical science guns didn’t sound as ridiculous anymore.

“And why did the story have to have _both_ a prince and a princess? It could just have been one character and the story would still be exactly the same.”

“All stories are better with siblings.”

“Debatable.” He might have stumbled on a way to get them to talk about their past without realising it. All he had to do was play dumb and pretend like it didn’t occur to him that these stories could be based on real events. He glanced at Ty through the rearview mirror. “How about you, then?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, gimme something with a bit of action and less…” He glanced at Destiny, trying to think of something diplomatic. “...Cutesy.”

Destiny punched him in the arm with no malice but a lot more force than Stan would’ve expected. “Hey, no messing with the driver. You’re gonna run us of the road.” He swerved the car back and forth in the lane to prove his point.

“Stop that!” Ty squeaked.

“Hey, take it easy. There’s nobody for miles.” He righted the car. “You’ve got a story or not?”

“I…” Ty paused as his mind switched tracks. He looked down for a moment. “I might know something.”

“The suspense is literally killing me,” Stan said flatly.

“Hey! It’s got giant robot fights. That’s exciting, right?”

“Oh!” Destiny said. “Is this that time where McGucket built-”

“Don’t…!” Ty smacked his forehead. “Don’t use his actual name.” He sounded too resigned to actually get angry.

Stan didn’t point out that he could’ve easily been talked into thinking that ‘McGucket’ was something the kids had made up, the same way Stan would make up hilarious nicknames for teachers and other adults back when he was a kid.

“If it helps, I’m not really that invested in names and all. I wanna hear about the fighting!”

The key to getting people to prattle on until they slipped up was to seem like you couldn’t care less if they didn’t tell you anything, while also making them feel like talking would get them something they wanted – approval or a chance to look tough or just attention.

Ty was definitely a sucker for all three.

—

Right, so, on a really boring day a couple of- I mean, last summer, our great-uncle’s assistant – McGucket – asked if we wanted to go to the lake with him and do some fishing. At first I wanted to say no, but then he mentioned that he had heard rumors that there might be some kind of anomaly in the lake. Although, he also said that they were unlikely to be true. But we thought it was better than sitting around doing nothing all day.

Just as we’d gotten the car packed, our great-uncle came outside to ask where we were going. McGucket acted kinda shifty and said that we were going to the store, which he knew would basically guarantee our great-uncle wouldn’t want to come along.

Our great-uncle told us to have fun and went back to his work.

—

“Wait,” Stan said. “So you just headed out with some weird family friend who didn’t want to tell your uncle where you were going?” Then he remembered that these two had thought it was a good idea to sneak into a complete _stranger’s_ car without knowing where they’d be going.

“McGucket isn’t- Well, he _is_ weird, but not as weird as some other people. And he’s a really nice person!”

“You could say that about basically anybody.”

What kind of normal person had ‘assistants’ anyway? It hinted at the possibility of a pretty large operation – be it a cult or whatever else – if the ringleader needed somebody else’s assistance in running it – unless it was just an ego thing. Mr. All Wise certainly had liked getting people to do things for him on the flimsiest of excuses.

—

McGucket acted shifty when we got to the lake too. He looked around, and didn’t want to get in the boat immediately. The lake ranger came out of the cabin at the shore and walked straight towards us. “I told you not to bother me at work,” he said.

McGucket almost dropped his fishing rod and smiled weirdly. He turned to the lake ranger and said, “Oh, hello Tate. I completely forgot you were working today. I only wanted to take the boss’ niece and nephew out for some fun on the lake.”

The lake ranger glared at us from under his hat and I said that we could come back another day if that was better, but the he just sighed and said that it was fine. Then he turned to McGucket and said, “But if you cause me any grief, I have the authority to administer a lifetime ban from all lake activities. Don’t think I won’t use it, Dad.”

He left to go back to the cabin next to the dock and McGucket tried to act like nothing had happened and jumped in the boat he’d rented. But when we got out on the lake, he kept looking back to the shore and if Tate ever looked back, he’d try waving at him. Tate never waved back.

Me and Destiny tried to not bother him – McGucket, I mean – but eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and tried asking, in a very tactful way, what was up between him and his son.

McGucket told us about how Tate had always been at the top of all his classes, even in kindergarten, and how he had had every prestigious university in the country and several more outside it begging him to apply to them. But when he had graduated high school, he decided to take up a job at the lake and had never even tried studying or working anywhere else.

McGucket seemed really sad about Tate wasting his potential and not believing in himself, but he said that any time he tried bringing up a career change, Tate would get angry and refuse to talk at all.

He said he just wanted Tate to be happy, and he couldn’t believe that he could be, working some brainless lakeside job.

—

“McGucket didn’t call it ‘brainless’,” Destiny said.

“Yeah, I know,” Ty said, miffed at the interruption.

“Just saying, you can be a itty-bitty bit judgy.”

“How’s that judgy? It’s a job that doesn’t require a lot of thinking. That’s like, the definition of brainless.”

Destiny tucked her chin inside the neck of her sweater, a slight wrinkle appearing on her brow. “It sure _sounds_ judgy,” she muttered. Stan felt a sting of unease in his throat, like something unpleasantly familiar.

Ty continued his story, either unaware of or ignoring Destiny’s souring mood.

—

McGucket said he just wanted a chance to show Tate how he could really have an impact on the world if he just applied himself.

Destiny said that not everyone wants to be scientists and doctors and how she’d never ever be happy being that. I tried explaining that it was different with her, because she’d never gotten that good grades, _since she doesn’t like studying._

McGucket shushed us and said we should focus on fishing.

Out of nowhere, a huge wave washed over the boat and nearly tipped it. Someone in another boat started screaming about sea monsters and everyone panicked and hurried towards the shore. McGucket said that it was probably nothing and that the mountains around town could sometimes cause weird winds like that.

Then we heard a loud roar that caused the water and the trees around the lake to tremble. Even McGucket had to admit that something fishy might be going on. Me and Ma- my sister wanted to go after the monster, but McGucket said it wasn’t safe. He took one of his inventions out of his pocket – a tiny engine that slipped onto the back of the boat easily. And just like that, we were speeding towards the beach.

I looked back and saw something big moving beneath the surface, quickly catching up to us. It was obvious that we weren’t going to make it, so I grabbed the steering handle from McGucket and turned the boat as sharply to the side as I could. The creature continued on its trajectory toward the dock, like it hadn’t even noticed us going the other way. Then it stopped completely and after a moment, turned again to follow us.

“We have to make it to the dock,” McGucket said.

We turned to boat again as the creature closed in and made for the dock. Tate was standing at the end, waving and yelling, but we couldn’t hear what he was saying.

McGucket pressed a couple of buttons on his wrist watch, and as soon as the boat was close enough to shore, he leapt out of it and pushed Tate back. Tate asked a bunch of questions about what the creature was but McGucket said that there was no time and that we had to get away from the lake.

The monster finally raised its head above the water. It looked pretty much how you’d expect a lake monster to look. A lot like plesiosaurus but with frills around its neck and a spiky tail. It roared again and tried reaching for us.

Just then, a huge robot lept out from among the trees and headed straight for the lake. It jumped on the lake monster and put it in a choke hold and tried to pull it out towards deeper water. It threw the monster down and jumped up to bring its elbow down in the monster’s stomach. The monster raised its head and roared angrily. It whipped its tail and threw the robot back. The robot landed with a huge splash and disappeared under the surface.

We thought for sure the robot had sunk to the bottom of the lake, but McGucket pressed another button on his watch and bubbles appeared where the robot had landed. Then the robot broke through the surface, polled up by huge flotation devices around its neck and arms. It wooshed through the water with both fists in front of it and barreled right into the lake monster. The monster crashed right into the dock, sending planks and nails in all directions

When the dust settled, the monster was laying beached among the remains of the dock. It tried turning and crawl back into the water, but it was stuck. Me and Destiny cheered and McGucket seemed really proud, until he noticed the way Tate looked. His expression was completely blank and he stared at the monster and the broken dock and the robot standing out in the water.

The monster roared again, but there was something weird about it. Like, the sound stopped and repeated the same second over and over again, like a skipping CD

—

“Like a skipping what now?” Stan asked.

Ty looked like he was going to barf up his own heart. “Uh, I meant to say- like a record?”

Through the rearview mirror, Stan scrutinized him for a drawn out moment. Ty looked around shiftily. Stan narrowed his eyes, waiting for something to give, but it looked like Ty was sooner going to faint from nervousness than say anything useful.

“So the kids are calling them ‘seedies’ now?” He pretended not to notice the look of relief on Ty’s face and muttered, “I swear, any time I hear some new slang it makes me feel like a 70-year-old.”

“Anyway,” Ty said, eager to move on.

—

The monster jerked its neck in a funny way and collapsed in a rain of sparks. It was obvious what had happened, especially when the so-called monster gave a hollow, metallic sound when I knocked at it, but I had no idea what to say. McGucket and Tate both looked completely stunned, but for different reasons.

After a long pause, McGucket tried to explain that he only wanted to impress him, but Tate walked right past him and started picking up the pieces of the shattered dock. Everybody else had ran away when the monster appeared, and the lake was eerily quiet. Then, once he had an armful of planks, he suddenly threw them all down on the ground.

McGucket said that he hadn’t meant to ruin the dock and that he’d pay to have it fixed, Tate started yelling. “You always do this! You and that no good scientist of yours. You make every part of this town unlivable for regular folks. Pretty soon, all that’s left is going to be you people and all your monsters, man made or otherwise.”

And then he walked back into the lakeside cabin and slammed the door shut.

McGucket stood still for a long while, like he’d been frozen to the ground. He didn’t move until M- Destiny patted his hand. “Maybe we should go home,” she said.

McGucket wanted to try explaining himself again, but Destiny said that that probably wasn’t going to work and how Tate needed time to calm down. So we took our things and went home.

Um, The End, I guess.

—  
  
—

Stan cocked his head as he tried digesting what he’d just heard. The story was so weirdly mundane and insane at the same time that it was impossible to tell what was real or important. “Not to be that guy, but this McGucket person sure sounds pretty kooky, even compared to ‘some people’.”

“I mean, yeah, building two giant robots to stage some crazy kaiju showdown probably wasn’t the best idea, but if Tate had just listened in the first place-”

Destiny cut him off, half-shouting. “If _McGucket_ had listened to what Tate wanted instead of deciding he knew what was best, you mean?” 

“Sure, what would he know, right?” Ty said with a frustrated laugh. “He’s only one of the smartest people in the whole world.”

“Oh yeah, real smart. Smart enough to destroy the lake and make everyone even more angry with-”

“That’s enough!” Stan was nearly as surprised by his own outburst as the kids, and had to scramble to save face. “You two have got to quit it with the bickering. If you’re gonna make it through this dog-butt world you’ve gotta stick by each other. You have no idea what a difference it makes to have somebody you can trust to have your back.” He had to stop, just to get his breathing under control again.

After a moment’s silence, Ty said, “Um, are you okay?”

“Hey, no changing the subject. ‘Sides, it’s my turn to tell a story.” And the words ran out his mouth like overflowing water.

—

You’re probably gonna think I’m lying, but I’ve got a twin too. We were tight as nothing when we were kids – ‘cause we had to be, with nobody else wanting to be around us. My brother was the smartest kid in town. If it was a math problem, he could run circles around anybody. But as smart as he was, he didn’t have nothing in way of fighting skills. That’s where I came in. If anyone tried messing with him, I’d make sure they regret it. As for me, I never could get any of that school junk through my thick skull, but with a genius brother in the same class, I always had somebody to get the right answers off.

But the best part about having a twin for a best friend is that you always got someone by your side when things get sticky. We’d always be getting in trouble, but because we stuck together, we always managed to get out of it. Or atleast come out less banged up that we otherwise would’ve been.

This one time, we went down to the docks to have a look in this abandoned warehouse, or whatever. We tore the planks off one of the windows and climbed in. There was all sort of interesting trash laying about. We went from room to room, having a good look at everything and picking out everything we wanted to bring back home. The best thing we found was this old pirate spyglass – he said it was a telescope, but to me, it was obviously a spyglass.

We were arguing about that, and then, bam! I put my foot down and it goes right through the floor. There was nothing but black, roaring waves way down there. I’d’ve fallen right through if he hadn’t stood close enough to grab me.

He had a good grip on my hand, but I knew he wasn’t gonna be strong enough to pull me up, and I could hear the floor creak under him. Either it was gonna give out under him or he was gonna follow me down the hole already there.

So I told him to let go. I’d be fine swimming to the shore. But he just grabbed my hand with both of his and leaned his whole weight back. It got me just high enough that I could swing up my other arm and grab onto the edge. From there, between the two of us, we could drag me up ‘til I got one leg up and get to safety. 

We walked as carefully as we possibly could, listening to every step, until we were back on the street, with nothing but good old New Jersey pavement under us. Once we got safe, it was easy to laugh at how scared we’d been. I’d nearly peed myself, and he was shaking like a leaf. He told me what a knucklehead I was for thinking I’d be able to swim after falling like that.

But he said, “I’m never-”

—  
  
—

Stan’s voice went out on him. See, this was exactly why he shouldn’t blabber without thinking. He’d end up saying things he didn’t mean to – things he knew was lies.

“What?” Destiny prodded.

The engine murmured and the sun glared down with a cold, white light. It made the world feel almost too real. As if everything was exactly as drab and unimpressive as it seemed, and if it ever had looked otherwise, it’d been a trick of the light.

What was another lie? Stan had built several lives out of saying things he didn’t believe.

“I’m never letting you go.”

He kinda regretted finishing it the moment the sentence was out of his mouth. Like ripping off a band-aid and having it hurt way more than expected. He was quiet for a moment, while waiting for the sting to fade. Then he shook himself.

“Point is, don’t let whatever it is you’re bickering over distract you from looking out for each other.” It felt like he should say something else, but the point was made, and if Stan kept talking he was going to start smelling his own bull.

He didn’t look to see if the kids were doing their silent communication thing. 

As he stared at the horizon, the distinctive headlights of a big rig appeared up the road. As it neared, Stan realised that the other driver had forgotten to dim his lights, which was annoying. Then he realised that the moron was in the wrong lane and not slowing down. Flames burst out on the semi’s sides, down around the wheel, illuminating its the silhouette against the gray sky. Its horn sounded like the roar of some angry animal.

Stan veered to the side, flying off the road into the ditch. The kids shrieked as they continued over the rocky, uneven ground. The airbags didn’t go off, which was bad, but also meant he wouldn’t have to shove them back in. The truck flew past them, still lying on the horn like it was Stan’s dang fault they’d nearly collided. Stan could feel the heat from the burning wheels, even through the closed window.

“Watch where you’re going stupid bastard! I hope that’s a tank full of gas you got there so it can explode right yo your...!” 

The truck disappeared over a hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lw vhhpv qr pdwwhu zkdw L gr, L nhhs uxlqlqj hyhubwklqj. Uljkw, Vwdq?
> 
> -
> 
> This is what I meant about Ford "kind of" being in the story.
> 
> I tried basing the illustrations in this chapter on each of the characters' art-style (with some liberties taken, obviously). In Journal 3, Dipper's style is pretty close to the actual show, which I interpreted that as him having a pretty realistic style, which is why the piece for his story is the same as the style I've been using for the rest of this fic. I decided to ink that one with a blue ballpoint, since that seems to be what Dipper uses in the Journal.


	9. Route 666, Colorado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a definitely normal diner, Stan hears some stuff he doesn't want to, and some stuff he wasn't meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit a serious slump this past month, for both writing and drawing, but I think I'm climbing out of it. Please note, I know next to nothing about cars. (After a lot of soul searching, I've decided i absolutely hate the all-caps chapter titles, so I'm changing 'em!)

Stan tried taking a breath. His chest hurt where the seat belt pulled taught around it but other than that, he felt fine. The car was pitching to one side and it was only the seat belt stopping him from falling into the passenger seat.

He moved his arm from in front of Destiny. “Role call,” he groaned.

“I’m okay,” Destiny said, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

“All things considered,” Ty added, rubbing his nose. His hand came away bloody.

“There’s some napkins in the seat pocket,” Stan offered.

Ty reached towards the pocket right in front of him.

“The other seat,” Stan snapped.

Ty flinched and gave Stan a funny look, before leaning over to dig through the pocket behind Destiny’s seat until he found a wad of crumpled napkins from some diner a hundred miles away.

“Alright,” Stan sighed. “Let’s look at the damage.” He climbed out, keeping one leg pressed against the door to stop it from falling shut in his face.

The road was elevated, surrounded on both sides by rocks and sad shrubs. The car had flown off the road and banged down hard enough for the undercarriage to clang against the ground. It still had enough speed to keep going through some bushes up the bank on other side of the ditch. There, it had hit a large rock almost head on, with enough force to go over and stopping on top of it, one front wheel floating in the air. The front of the car had gotten the worst of it. One of the lights had cracked and the fender was bent so that it dug into the tire.

“Well. This isn’t amazing.” Stan gave the tire a comforting kick. Of course he got into car accident in the middle of nowhere, miles away from mechanics and hardware stores.

He pushed down over the free floating wheel to see if how badly the car was stuck, but his weight wasn’t enough to tilt the car the other way. With both rear wheels planted on the ground, he might be able to back of off the rock, but not without completely destroying his undercarriage. 

He took his jacket off and threw it on the ground. “Alright, let’s try this.” He braced against the windscreen and got ready to try and kick the fender back into shape.

“What the heck was that thing?” Ty said, peering down the road where the truck had vanished. He had two tufts of paper sticking out of his nose, reminding Stan of a snail.

“Some idiot falling asleep on the wheel,” Stan grunted, putting his full weight against the fender. “Happens way more than you wanna think.” His hand slipped and he fell on his back in the dirt.

“You can’t possibly think that that’s normal! After everything that’s happened.”

“Is freaking out about it gonna get my car out of this ditch?” Stan snapped. He glared at the Stanleymobile and muttered, “We’re gonna need some expert help.” From where, he had no clue.

“Let’s go check over there,” Destiny said.

Stan looked up at her and followed where she was pointing, to a large weatherbeaten sign just down the road. The letters were flaying and dusty, barely readable. “Bifron’s Gas and Grill – Best Steaks on Route 666,” he read out loud.

“Was that there before?” Ty asked.

“I was kinda too caught on the guy tryna run us off the road to notice things on the side.” Stan got up and brushed himself off. He squinted at the sign. Where there was a restaurant there was people, and likely other businesses. There had to be someone he could convince to help him fix his car. Or at least let him use the phone. “C’mon, gremlins. We’re taking lunch.”

They climbed back onto the road and started walking in the direction the sign pointed. All the way, there wasn’t a single car coming from either direction. It was bizarrely quiet out here. The only noise was the sound of their footsteps.

Stan kinda zoned out and it took him way longer than it should’ve to notice that Ty was lagging behind. “You mind picking up the pace? I wanna get to this place before I die of old age.”

“But I-” Ty looked down for a second. “I mean, sure,” he grumbled. He tried speeding up, but that only made his gait more obviously lopsided.

“I thought you said you were fine,” Stan said, crossing his arms.

Ty glared at him. “I said I was fine ‘all things considered’,” he sniped, using the most obnoxious air quotes possible.

Stan grumbled about stupid, stubborn kids and got down on one knee to give Ty’s ankle the once-over. “Doesn’t look so bad. How’d it happen?”

Ty waved his arms around awkwardly to keep his balance “Uh, I had my leg up on the seat when the truck showed up. And then I knocked the foot against the backrest and hit my knee in my nose.”

“Hence the nose bleed,” Stan filled in. He turned around and readjusted into a crouch. “Right, up you go.”

Ty just stared at him. “What… are you doing?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “It’s called a piggyback ride.”

“No, yeah, I know that,” Ty spluttered. “I mean _why are you trying to give me a piggyback ride?”_

Stan sighed and rubbed his face. “Do you really gotta turn _everything_ into an hour of jabbering? Imagine how much easier life would be if you could just go with the flow.”

“I can go with the flow,” Ty muttered, and finally moved to climb onto Stan’s back.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Stan tucked his arms under Ty’s legs and stood up. The wound in his leg gave an angry twinge. “Wow, it’s like carrying a bag of air.” He grinned over his shoulder. “For once having zero muscles pays of, huh?”

Ty punched him in the back of the head and Stan laughed.

“If you’d just told me you were hurt when I _asked_... But I guess that’s on brand for you two, being secretive about absolutely everything.”

He didn’t think Ty was going to answer. They trudged along for a while. Well, Stan trudged – Destiny walked with a pep to her step, always a few feet ahead. If she had any thoughts on what Stan had said, she wasn’t going to let him know.

—

—

Ty adjusted his grip on Stan’s shoulders. “I know you’re trying to bait us into telling you what we’re doing.” He didn’t sound accusatory, only tired.

“All I’m saying is, I’m the one driving you two around and paying for your food and sleeping arrangements. I think I deserve to know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Destiny was not looking back but Stan sensed that she was listening.

“We’re not doing it to be difficult!” Ty snapped. “We- There’s a really good reason why we can’t tell you anything.”

Destiny crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. Stan wondered if she disagreed with her brother.

Ty went on. “Once we get to New Jersey...” He trailed off.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Destiny finished with finality.

Maybe it was better to leave it alone, but he’d always been the kind of guy to not hold back. “I thought you said you weren’t even sure if this uncle of yours lives in Jersey.”

Destiny slowed a bit before speeding back up. “Well, I mean, he probably does. Where else would he be, right?” She turned to Ty, suddenly interested in his input again.

Ty said nothing for a long time. He picked at the faux fur lining the hood of Stan’s jacket. Then he stopped to poke Stan in the shoulder. “Hey…” He tried to sound casual. “You live in New Jersey. Maybe you know him.”

“Who says I live in Jersey?”

Destiny stopped abruptly and spun around, leaving a strange silence where her footsteps had been. “But you said you were going there?” she said, almost accusingly.

“Yeah, I am. I’ve got a guy in Newark who owes me one from back in the day. But I haven’t set foot there since I was a teenager.”

“So where do you live?” Ty asked, and his tone was so weird that Stan forgot to be secretive.

“Uh, guess I’m in the same boat as you. I had to get out of my last place and now I’m…” He nodded his head to the road behind and in front. “Between places.”

Destiny looked at him like he’d just confessed to murder, and Ty had gone still as a statue. His fingers dug into Stan’s jacket like a pair of crab claws. Now that they all had quit walking, there wasn’t a single sound across the whole empty landscape.

“H- Hey…” Stan’s voice sounded way too loud. “I’m sure that’s not gonna happen to you two. I’m a special case of rotten luck.” He knew that that wasn’t the problem, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the actual problem was. “Now c’mon.”

Maybe… But, no, that made even less sense.

A few minutes down the road, there was a cluster of low, gray stone buildings with small windows. Above the door of the biggest one was a sign like the one down the road, except that this one had a hasty ‘and rooms’ painted after the ‘Gas and Grill’.

The parking lot had a couple of cars and motorbikes in it, all parked slapdash. Bizarrely, there was also a fancy-looking horse carriage on the far end of the lot, without a horse in sight. There wasn’t any people around either, despite it being the middle of the day. But the restaurant was open, if the sign in the window telling the truth.

Ty peered over Stan’s shoulder at the building. “We’re not actually gonna go in there, are we?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “If you’re fine walking off into the wilderness to look for something better… Oh, wait.” He hitched Ty up a bit. “I’m the one in charge of walking right now.”

For all his talk, Stan did hesitate at the entrance. It _was_ kinda funny that he’d come up this way when he was going to see Ford, but had no memory of going past this place. Not that he had a habit of remembering all the random places he went past while traveling. Maybe Ty’s constant worrying was rubbing off on him.

The door opened with a puff of hot, dry air. The mouthwatering smell of cooked meat filled Stan’s nose. The restaurant was loud and busy – way more than the number of vehicles in the parking lot would have you believe. Stan automatically gave the room a once over. A few truckers and bikers, some regular travelers or possible locals. In the back were a couple of guys decked out in full suits and fedoras, sitting around like they didn’t look like a bunch of dorks.

If anyone had good money on them, it was probably whatever weirdo owned the fancy carriage. But, Stan reminded himself, now wasn’t the best time to fish through other people’s pockets.

A young woman with aggressively blonde hair stood behind the bar, peering out over the restaurant with small, sharp eyes. Her attention snapped to Stan and the kids as they got close, a little quicker than what felt natural. She smiled warmly, though. “Hi! Welcome to Bifron’s Gas and Grill! I’m Amy!”

“Um, hi there,“ Stan said awkwardly.

“Hello!” Destiny beamed. “Our car broke down.”

“Figured that the ‘Gas’ part in the name might mean you’ve got some kind of mechanic,” Stan filled in. He plopped Ty down on one of the barstools.

Amy smiled broadly. “You’re gonna wanna ask Malphie. He’s got all that tinkering and building stuff down.”

“M- Alphie?” Stan echoed.

“He’s right out back. Should be back in a lil’ while. Can I get you guys something while you wait?”

Stan hesitated for a moment, mostly out of habit, but they did need to eat, even if it cost money. “Y’got a menu?”

They sat down at a table by the wall near the door, from where Stan could see the entire room. He got an almost nostalgic feeling of being some kind of intruder. It was a sense he’d gotten a lot back when he’d started traveling. He’d felt like everyone could tell how young and inexperienced and stressed out he was. Nowadays he didn’t care if he looked out of place, unless someone was planning on trying to do something about it.

No one around the restaurant looked ready to get up, so Stan decided to ignore the feeling. Maybe he was weirded out over being the only one with kids.

“Ooh, I want pancakes!” Destiny exclaimed, spreading the menu open on the table.

“And I want a million dollars, but life doesn’t give you what you want.” He turned the menu around to skim through it. Everything was way overpriced, especially when imagining how much it was going to cost to get his car off that rock. “Think you can get along for long enough to share a plate of fries?”

“We’ll use our own money,” Ty said, and gave Stan a sharp look. “You know, from the bar?”

Stan glared back for a moment, before sighing loudly and reaching inside his jacket. “Thought you’d forgotten about that.”

Ty held out his hand for Stan to place the money from the Raging Bull in it. Stan made a big show of rolling his eyes at how Ty counted it. He leaned his cheek on his fist and glared at the spot above one of the other patrons’ head. “At this rate I oughta have you pay for all your meals,” he muttered.

Amy the waitress appeared like she’d stepped out of thin air. “Hi! Guys! It’s Amy! Are you guys ready to order?”

Before Stan could say anything, Ty spoke. “We’ll have two pancake plates. And two Pitt Colas.”

Amy turned to Stan. “And what about you?”

“A plate of fries and a glass of water,” he muttered.

“C’mon!” Destiny exclaimed. “You should have pancakes too.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m actually careful about how I spend my money.”

“Too bad you don’t know how to be careful about how you _make_ money,” Ty muttered.

“Well, I’m not careful about how I do anything,” Destiny said. “Make that three pancakes and three sodas, sister!”

“Aww, are you getting your daddy a nice meal? That’s so totally adorable!” She glanced at Stan and for a split second, the bubble gum pink smile fell away into a sneer. Before Stan could react, the smile was back. “I’ll get you your drinks, oka-y.” 

“One more thing,” Ty said. “Do you know if anyone has seen anything weird on the roads around here?” After a beat he added. “Like, trucks driving on the wrong side of the road with fire shooting out of the sides?”

Amy tapped her pen against her chin, like she really had to think about it. “Sounds like one of Hinn’s guys. Those boys just love teasing drivers.”

“Teasing?” Stan echoed, but the waitress was heading back towards the bar with a bounce in her step, apron ties fluttering behind her like a pair of tails.

“So we’re not the first ones to run into that crazy trucker,” Ty said. “Something fishy is definitely going on here.”

Stan plucked a toothpick out the mini barrel in the middle of the table and started cleaning his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” If there really was ‘something fishy’ going on – and of course it was, it was a creepy diner in the middle of nowhere – the best thing to do was try and get back out as fast as possible. And not run around drawing pointless attention to themselves.

A familiar voice cut through the background noise.”Steve! That actually you?”

Oh. No…

A thick, leather clad arm wrapped around his shoulders. Stan looked up into the familiar horseshoe mustache of Jimmy Snakes. He looked exactly the same as he had six years ago, down to the same sunglasses and ratty red bandana covering his forehead.

It took Stan several seconds to get his thoughts in order, before he could put on a broad smile. “Jimmy freaking Snakes! What kind of nasty beast dragged you all the way out here?”

“The eternal one, y’know.” Jimmy slapped Stan’s back. “It really is you, huh? I thought you’d gotten yourself snuffed out. Guess you’ve become the one doing the snuffing.”

“Yeah,” Stan laughed awkwardly. “Funny world, isn’t it?” He had no idea what Jimmy was talking about. “Hey, Gremlins.” He turned to the kids. “This is an old friend of mine. Don’t be annoying.”

Ty gave Stan a judgy look, but fortunately kept his mouth shut.

Jimmy stared at the kids for just a smidge too long, his mustache and sunglasses hiding his expression. “Pleasure.” After a pause, he added, “Hey, why don’t you gremlins go…” he trailed off. “Do gremlin things for a while?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Ty said, voice heavy with implication. 

Destiny crossed her arms and stared into the wall.

“Y’sure you wanna be hobbling around with that ankle?” Stan raised his eyebrows.

“I’m fine,” Ty mumbled. He turned to Destiny. “C’mon.”

After a moment, Destiny slipped out of her seat. The kids flitted off towards the back of the room. Ty lead the way and Destiny followed, stopping for a moment to look back at Stan and Jimmy. She seemed uncharacteristically worried, Stan thought. Maybe he should’ve told her she didn’t have to leave just ‘cause Jimmy and Ty wanted her to. But then she turned to follow Ty away among the tables.

Jimmy waved at a waiter Stan had missed earlier and ordered a beer for each of them.

“What are you doing around here, anyway?”

Stan took a swig. “I’m running an errand for my brother.” He almost jumped at his own words. That wasn’t meant to slip out.

Jimmy lowered his sunglasses just so he could give Stan a _look._ The kind that sent an unpleasant, exciting buzz up his spine. “Same brother who ditched you after you got kicked out?” That was another thing Stan had never meant to tell Jimmy, but the man had a way of making you give up your secrets.

Stan tried acting nonchalant, like he hadn’t just accidentally started a conversation he desperately wanted not to have. “The same.” He took a sip. “He contacted me ‘cause he needed help and had run out of options.”

“And you just went along and helped him? Why?”

Stan shrugged. “Didn’t really have anything better to do. ‘Sides, family and all that.”

“Some family. Where was he when you went to prison?”

“I donno. Where was _you_ when I got out?”

That shut him up for a hot second.

“You know I never wanted to leave you behind.”

“Do I?”

“It got too hot for us in Phoenix. If we hadn’t left when we did, we’d been right in there with you. No good to anybody.”

As if any of them were any good out of prison – that was the whole point of being in an MC gang, wasn’t it? Stan had been all alone in there. He could’ve used somebody he knew wouldn’t wanna stab him in the back.

Jimmy wrapped his arm around Stan’s neck, a smidge strangly. “Things’ve been pretty dull without you, y’know,” he muttered.

“Huh,” Stan said blandly, but not pulling away.

Jimmy was quiet for a while, just holding on to Stan while staring down into his beer. “Y’think that brother of yours ever lied awake feeling guilty like I did? Think he spent any time wondering if you were okay?”

“I don’t know.” Except he did, didn’t he? Ford hadn’t seen him in ten years, and apparently couldn’t even spare a second for even the blandest stock ‘what have you been up to?’.

“You don’t owe him anything, kid. And he’s not gonna suddenly turn around and give a shit about you just ‘cause you did him a favor.”

Stan turned his face away, like the other patrons in the diner were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“You know that, right?” Jimmy’s voice had gone soft, in that way that’s trying to slither inside your mind and make you question yourself and your choices – and then read that doubt as a sign that you knew deep down that you were in the wrong.

“You’re better off throwing that book in a ditch and forget your shitty brother. Like he forgot about you.”

“I gotta go take a dump.” Stan stood up abruptly.

“Stevey!” Jimmy called after him. But Stan ignored the old instinct that told him to stop.

He moved towards the archway marked ‘bathroom’, past the table with the fedora dorks. As he entered the badly lit corridor, he heard a pair of shrill voices from around the corner at end. He quickly pushed the twisting mess of thoughts to the back of his mind, and crept forward.

Ty’s voice faded into earshot. “-just take this seriously, for like, one second?”

Stan leaned against the cold stone wall, far enough from the corner to stay out of sight while still being able to hear clearly.

“I am serious!” Destiny snapped. Her voice jolted a little when she stomped the floor.

Her anger was enough to make Ty falter. Stan too, for that matter. He wouldn’t have thought Destiny able to get angry like that. After a moment, Ty pressed on. “Then can you just acknowledge that this is a very troubling situation? Nothing has gone according to plan since we got here!”

Stan peered back up the hallway, in case some other customer wanted to come by and blow his spot or make the kids’ interrupt their conversation.

“So forget the stupid plan!” Destiny pleaded. “When has anything ever worked out exactly like you planned it? Oh, I know, _never_. And it’s always been fine!”

“This is a little bigger than me trying to impress Wendy and her friends! If we mess this up, the consequences could be devastating. We’re meddling with things beyond anything we’ve experienced before.” Stan could almost hear him throwing his arms out dramatically. “And so far, all we’ve done is make _even more_ bad things happen, and we still don’t know where he’s going to be or what’s going to happen in Kansas.”

“Well…” Destiny choked on her words for a second, but she came back, even more determined than before. “We can’t just do nothing!”

—

—

Ty didn’t respond.

Destiny took a deep, shaky breath. “Maybe we don’t know what’s going to happen with us here,” she said gently. “But we know _exactly _what’ll happen if we don’t do anything.”__

__Ty was still quiet, even after she waited for a painfully long time. Stan held his breath. Next time Destiny spoke, it was in a low, heartbreakingly flat tone. “So go back then. I’ll- I’ll fix things on my own.”_ _

__It was like he was drowning. He could feel the weight of a hundred fathoms on his shoulders. This shouldn’t be happening. He had to stop it. But what could he possibly do?_ _

__“I won’t abandon you,” Ty said, in a tone that said ‘obviously’. “Remember? No matter if we fight, or if you make me angry, or I make you angry.”_ _

__Stan felt his heart was being kicked around like an empty can. It took all his mental resilience to keep from thinking…_ _

__“And I’m not abandoning him,” Destiny said. “No matter what.”_ _

__Silence fell again. The kind of silence of two people sizing each other up._ _

__“Of course you won’t,” Ty said with a sigh. “Well, we’ve gotten this far. Might as well see it through to the end.” His tone turned jokey._ _

__“Yeah!” Destiny exclaimed. “Destiny Twins?”_ _

__“Heh, I never agreed to that name.” The protest was fell flat against the warmth it was delivered with._ _

__“Well, I’m cashing in all my ‘Dipper’s been a dumdum’ chips, so you can suck it up.”_ _

__“Fair. Destiny Twins.” Stan could only just about hear him when he spoke again. “I’m sorry. This is just scarier than I thought it would be.”_ _

__It reminded Stan that he was listening in on something he wasn’t meant to hear. At any other time, that wouldn’t bother him, but this conversation, between these two, felt weirdly sacred. He pushed himself off the wall and hurried down the halway, barely remembering to try and stay quiet._ _

__He stepped back into the restaurant and the noise hit him like a wall. Everything was too loud and bright and he felt like everyone could see that he was in the middle of losing it completely._ _

__He avoided the table where Jimmy still sat and went up to the bar instead. Amy’s eyes snapped to him as he approached. “Is that Alphie guy gonna show up any time soon?”_ _

__“Malphie? He should get back in soon. Why don’t you go sit down and-”_ _

__“Listen here, lady. I’ve got places to be and I wanna get going in this lifetime. So, maybe you could take a second and go outside and give this M-Alphie guy a shout?”_ _

__Amy looked back with a stone stiff smile. After a pause, she said, “I’ll see what I can do,” in a distinctly ‘up yours’ tone. But Stan was beyond caring at this point._ _

__He sat down by the bar with a sigh. Maybe he oughta get back to the table. Jimmy got kinda pissy when he felt ignored. But Stan was in serious need of just a moment to gather his thoughts._ _

__He couldn’t keep from mulling over what he’d just heard. Especially when the other option was thinking about the things Jimmy had said to send him running. A lot of what the kids had said made absolutely no sense, but that was par for the course. He was baffled by the idea that all the wild stuff they had been doing apparently was part of some kind of _plan_ and that Ty was surprised that it could go any other way than horribly wrong._ _

__Then there was Destiny’s insistence that she wouldn’t abandon ‘him’ – their uncle, he guessed. The kids had always made it sound like they needed their uncle’s help with something (that maybe was happening in Kansas?). But the way Destiny talked about him it was like _he_ was the one in need of help._ _

__‘No matter what’, huh? That was a funny level of dedication to someone you’d supposedly never met. But why lie about that to someone who wasn’t involved?_ _

__The door behind the bar opened and a tall guy with spiky hair, dressed in dirty overalls walked in. He had the same kind of overly friendly smile Amy kept plastered on her face. “Hi there!” he said, wiping his hand off on the back of his jeans before reaching out to shake Stan’s. “I hear you might be having some trouble with your car.” He had some kind of European accent Stan couldn’t place._ _

__“That’s one way of putting it.” Stan explained what had happened and what the problems were. He started getting off the barstool but Malphie stopped him._ _

__“Oh no, don’t get up. I think I’ll be able to find it. You guys enjoy the pancakes and I’ll be back before you know it.”_ _

__“Right, uh. It’s a red 1965 El Diablo.”_ _

__Malphie burst out laughing. “A Diablo? That’s very funny.”_ _

__“Hey, it’s a fine car,” Stan snapped._ _

__“No, I know,” Malphie said, surprised. “That’s not what I… Never mind. I’ll be right back, alright.” He headed back out the way he came._ _

__“What was that about?” Jimmy came to sit next to him._ _

__“Guess I forgot to mention – I got some trouble with my car. This Malphie guy is gonna help me fix it.”_ _

__After a beat, Jimmy said, “You could’ve asked me. I know a thing or two about cars.”_ _

__Stan snorted. “You once asked me to ‘crank down the front window’!”_ _

__“What? I can’t’ve learned anything new over the years?”_ _

__Stan blinked at Jimmy’s suddenly snappish tone. “Yeesh, you know that isn’t what I meant.” After some awkward silence, he added. “The damage isn’t that big. Could probably fix it myself if I had the right tools.” Nope, that kinda made it sound like he thought Jimmy was dim. “I mean, didn’t seem right to bother you with something like that when we’ve not met in six years.”_ _

__Jimmy’s expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses. Stan felt pearls of sweat form at the back of his neck._ _

__“Listen, about what I said earlier-”_ _

__“Wonder what happened to the kids’ drinks.” Stan stood up. “Better go check.”_ _

__But Jimmy grabbed his arm and forced him to sit back down. ”Will you listen to me for just a second!?”_ _

__Stan stopped trying to move away and leaned forward against the bar._ _

__“What are you doing, running these stupid errands for your shitty brother who doesn’t get in touch until he needs something from you? You’ve got to stop living in the past.”_ _

__—_ _

___ _

__—_ _

__“That isn’t what I’m doing,” Stan muttered._ _

__“If you wanna feel needed, why don’t you stick with me again?”_ _

__Stan’s heart lurched and he had no idea if it was from joy or fear._ _

__“Even if he did forgive you, what do you have in common at this point? You think Dr. Big Shot Scientist is gonna wanna hang around some meathead crook? People like you and me, we don’t mix with types like that.”_ _

__Stan’s fingers dug into his other arm as he tried to stay calm. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and the tightness in his throat told him his voice would probably give out on him even if he found the words._ _

__“Hey! What’re we talking about here!” said a familiar chirpy voice. Destiny popped up between them, smiling brightly like she hadn’t just been in a shouting match minutes ago. She looked between Stan and Jimmy with nothing but innocent curiosity. Though, maybe she understood more than she let on._ _

__“Nothing, Pumpkin,” Stan said, happy to be interrupted. “Let’s get back to our table and see if we can’t get ‘em to hand over those overpriced pancakes.”_ _

__They all sat down at the table. Jimmy too, but didn’t order anything beyond a second beer and didn’t say much of anything while the rest of them ate. Destiny made sure to fill the silence, though. The pancakes were pretty nice, for a middle of nowhere diner._ _

__Malphie came back way quicker than Stan expected. “Don’t look so bad, all things considered. The undercarriage got a real beating, but I should be able to fix her up tomorrow.”_ _

__“Tomorrow?” Stan echoed._ _

__Malphie shrugged. “I got some other stuff to see to this afternoon. But I’ll be sure to get you going before lunch tomorrow.”_ _

__Stan crossed his arms. “And how much is it gonna set me back?”_ _

__Malphie waved the question away. “I’m not out to rob you, my man. We’ll figure it out.” That was suspiciously generous. “In the meantime. I’m sure we’ve got a couple of rooms where you can stay the night.”_ _

__Ah, so that was the rub, was it? Keep them overnight to make them have to pay for food and beds._ _

__Ty was glaring a hole into Stan’s cheek, clearly trying to get eye contact. Stan didn’t need to look at him to know that Ty did not want them to stay. Honestly, Stan wasn’t happy about it either, but it wasn’t like they had a better option._ _

__“Alright. So we’ll take care of the undercarriage tomorrow. But I’ll take a look at the other stuff now and see what I can do today. You don’t mind me borrowing some tools off you, do you?”_ _

__Malphie blinked slowly. “Of course! But are you sure you wanna go tampering with-”_ _

__“I’ve had that car since I was sixteen. I know her inside out.”_ _

__“I’ll help.” Jimmy suddenly sat up straight in his chair. His offer didn’t leave any room for arguing._ _

__“Us too!” Destiny chirped, wrapping an arm around Ty’s shoulders._ _

__Stan quietly waved goodbye to the chance for some time alone. Tinkering with his car had always been one of his favorite ways to unwind and gets his thoughts in order, and it was hard not feeling a little irritated at the kids and Jimmy for interrupting it._ _

__Out loud, he said, “Looks like I’ve got a whole pit crew. Lucky me.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wkrvh gdlob vtxdeeohv vhhp vr vpdoo zkhq L lpdjlqh qhyhu vhhlqj brx djdlq.


	10. Bifron’s Gas and Grill, Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan remembers the past and the real threat stars to become clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Inktober got in the way of writing and after that, I just struggled to pull a first draft together. A million thanks to my friend H for all her help with proof reading and bouncing ideas.

Behind the restaurant was another low stone building of about the same size, with two sets of sideways opening garage doors. Malphie had dumped Stan’s car out in front and Stan almost teared up when he saw her.

The shattered headlight was falling to pieces and the scratches glinted white in the dull light. The fender looked even worse than he remembered. Still, it wasn’t the worst state the Stanleymobile had ever been in, and he’d been able to get her back into shape in worse circumstances.

He removed the fender and brought it into the garage, where there was a sturdy workbench. The kids and Jimmy trailed behind him like a bunch of awkward ducklings. He tried thinking of something for them to do, but drew a blank. So instead of hemming and hawing about it until things got awkward, he got to work on flattening the fender, making things _immediately_ awkward.

After a while, Destiny spoke up, “Oh! We could sort through all the trash in the backseat.”

“Eh, leave it.” Stan waved her suggestion away. “You never know…” He trailed off blandly. “You can, uh, pick the glass out of the headlight and, I don’t know, keep it? Do kids still collect rocks and glass shards?”

“Well, it’s the 80’s, so there’s not like there’s anything better to do,” Ty said.

The kids went back to the car and started cleaning up the headlight. Stan was gonna have to think of some easy fix for that until he could find a replacement light. For now, he pressed his weight down on the fender until it started returning to its normal shape. It was a whole way easier to get the biggest bends out when the sheet of metal was laid down flat and not attached to the side of the car.

Jimmy came over and held the fender steady, which wasn’t necessary but a nice gesture either way. “You sure it’s a good idea to let those two near your car?”

Stan blinked, faltering for a moment before he put it together. He glanced over at the kids before looking back down at his work. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, messing up vehicles is what those critters do best, right?”

“Right.” Was he having a stroke? Was Jimmy having a stroke? “Well, sure they can be a handful sometimes, but they mean well.”

“They mean well?” Jimmy echoed. “They’re _gremlins.”_

Stan had gotten rid of the biggest bumps and bent back down to dig a pick hammer out of the toolbox under the table. The way Jimmy said the word, it sounded like he didn’t get that it was a nickname.

“Whatever, they’re not gonna do anything to the car,” he said, even though he still had no idea what Jimmy was driving at. He started methodically working the metal with small taps of the hammer side. Luckily, Jimmy seemed happy to drop the subject of the kids. The lull in conversation and the repetitious hammering was enough to allow Stan to get lost in thought.

In a lot of ways, the year he’d spent with the Crazy Cobras had been the best time he’d had since leaving his dad’s house. It had been the first time since Jersey that he hadn’t been completely alone.

He couldn’t remember the date, but the their first meeting were still clear in his mind. In a near empty bar in the outskirts of Phoenix, Stan had been blowing money he couldn’t spare, trying to think of a new product he could hawk off at the unsuspecting locals. As the barman started going around the room, flipping chairs upside down on the tables to hint that it was time for the last costumers to get out, Jimmy and his gang had stepped inside.

Jimmy wasn’t exactly buff, and his height ought to’ve made him look scrawny, but there had always been something to the way he held himself that made him look imposing. No that that mattered to Stan. He had never been one to let himself be intimidated.

One of Jimmy’s buddies had turned down a the tables, ignoring the barman’s meek protests. The other patrons started filing out, but Stan stayed put. Jimmy went up to the bar to lean next to him. “Hey, kid, you really shouldn’t be out this late.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “I ain’t no ‘kid.’ And this bar’s big enough for all of us.”

Jimmy eyed him with a stiff smile. “I don’t think so, kid.”

Stan had been thinking about leaving, but suddenly there was no place he’d rather be. He took a slow, careful sip and looked the annoying stranger right in the eye. “Well, I was here first, so…” He paused, despite knowing he was going to finish the sentence, no matter how bad an idea it was. “Fuck off.”

Jimmy had grabbed the front of his shirt. He had a height advantage, but this wasn’t Stan’s first rodeo. He hooked his arm around Jimmy’s forearm and tugged down, while bringing his left hook up to collide with Jimmy’s face.

The taller man had gone down and the bar went silent. Stan realised that maybe he shouldn’t have started a fight with a guy backed up by a dozen surly bikers. He’d seen the barman in the corner of his eye, slowly backing away towards the other end of the bar.

The rest of the MC gang had looked like they were a hair trigger away from breaking into a brawl. Stan put on the appearance of standing his ground while looking for the best way out.

But Jimmy had laughed, with genuine amusement. He sat up, rubbing his jaw. “You’ve got spunk, kid. I’ll give you that.”

The leathered cronies had stood around like deer caught in the headlights of a truck. Clearly, this hadn’t been how their boss normally reacted to getting knocked on his ass and now they didn’t know if they were supposed to enact revenge or back off.

Jimmy had got to his feet. He’d stretched his jaw back and forth a couple of times and smiled at Stan. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

He’d _never_ been on a motorcycle before, but he’d taken to it like a fish to water. Blowing up and down Arizona highways on a bike had been a completely different experience from being in a car. There was nothing to protect you from the wind blasting against you and no radio to distract from the roaring engine. He’d been more aware of the speed he was going at and how the smallest mistake could mean a quick, sticky end.

His car would always be his favorite, but he couldn’t lie and say the danger wasn’t exciting. Nothing to get the blood pumping like knowing any second, you could crash to the ground and be reduced to a smear on the asphalt. It was like all the weight of tomorrow or next week or next year was lifted from his shoulders.

While he thought about those distant days, the fender started to look more and more like itself again. Eventually, he turned the hammer around so he could get at the tiny bumps with the pick side.

“Looks pretty flat to me.”

Stan had almost forgotten Jimmy was actually there, in the current moment. He ran his hand over the surface, feeling the minute bumps and nicks. “It isn’t,” he said. He could just left it as it was. It was going to work fine either way, but he felt like he owed the Stanleymobile more than that.

Maybe he should take Jimmy’s offer. Get back on two wheels for a while and try not to think about how he was going to get his mess of a life together. Unless Jimmy hadn’t been serious about that. He could’ve just meant it as an example of better things for Stan to do instead of trying to patch things up with Ford.

“Where did the rest of the guys go?” In the time he’d known him, Stan had never seen Jimmy without at least a couple of his boys hovering around him.

Jimmy dipped his head down to reveal his eyes, sending Stan a look heavy with implication. “You know what it’s like.”

Stan didn’t, but decided not to ask again. He finished pecking away at the metal moved his hand over it one last time. In an ideal world, he’d be able to sand and repaint it, but somehow he doubted Malphie just happened to have the right shade of red.

“Right…” he stood straight and cracked his back. “I think that’s all we can do for now.” He turned to the kids. “How’s it going with the light?”

Destiny popped up behind the hood of the car. “Amazing! I’m gonna make a necklace.”

“No,” Ty sniped.

“Do whatever you want.” Stan caught himself almost smiling. “Right now, I just want to sit down and stare at a wall.” He unlocked the car and picked up his and the kids’ bags. He turned around and found Jimmy standing right behind him.

“Need some help with that?”

“What, the bags? Think I can manage. These aren’t very…” He stopped, weighing the kids’ backpack in his hand. “Actually, what the heck have you got in here?”

The kids shared a look. “Just stuff,” Ty said.

“Really boring things,” Destiny added.

“You’re terrible at this,” Stan said flatly. It occurred to him that the kids might have more weapons like the grappling hairdryer. He really oughta take a look through their stuff at some point. For now, he threw the kids their bags and slung his own over his shoulder before walking back towards the diner.

Jimmy was already moving ahead of them, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. Had he been offended by Stan turning down help from him? That wasn’t really Jimmy’s style, as far as Stan knew.

A terrible rattling sound coming from Destiny kept him from mulling on that for long. “Did you actually keep all the junk from the headlight?” he asked.

“Obviously! It’s all going in the scrapbook.” She patted her stomach, which made a horrible plastic-on-plastic rattle.

“Just try and not cut yourself to ribbons.”

“That’ll be some fucking scrapbook,” Jimmy said.

The kids gasped and Destiny even covered her ears for a moment. “Hey! You shouldn’t cuss!” she said.

Jimmy stumbled slightly and looked back at them. When he saw how serious they were he laughed and looked to Stan. “What the f-”

“Ah!” The kids covered their ears again.

“Argh! Fine, fine, whatever!” Jimmy raised his hands defensively. “No cursing. What is up with these two?”

Stan just shrugged. “That’s what I wanna know.”

As Jimmy moved towards the diner again, Stan wondered about how this hadn’t come up earlier. He wasn’t exactly the squeaky clean kinda guy himself. Wait, _had_ he cursed in front of the kids?

He stopped in his tracks. There was no way he hadn’t dropped an F-bomb at some point in the last few days. But, had that been when the kids were around?

His face heated.

—

—

Ty turned around. “What’s up?”

Stan shook himself. “Nothing,” he muttered. _If_ he hadn’t cursed in front of them, it was absolutely a coincidence and nothing else. 

Inside the restaurant Amy was talking to one of the truckers. The undisguised boredom on her face made her look almost like a different person. She noticed the four of them and gestured for the trucker to shut it. The costumer service smile returned to her face. “Satisfied? Malphie’s going to get you all set right tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you said.” Stan scratched his nose. “How about that room?”

“I’ll go and get it ready.” She got out from behind the bar. As she passed the kids, she slowed down to look at them. The hairs on the back of Stan’s neck stood up. She raised her hand slowly and booped each of them on the nose. “You just sit tight.”

She walked away and Stan and the kids shared a look.

“That was a bit much, wasn't it?” Stan said.

Ty shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Guess it’s the twin thing? We don’t get it that much anymore, but when we were little it was relentless.”

“So many cheek pinches,” Destiny agreed.

Stan laughed. “You should try what me and my brother did – steal, play pranks and get in fights. Ain’t nobody gonna find you cute when you’re a total nightmare.”

“I mean, that sounds totally adorable,” Destiny said. “I can just imagine you two running around causing trouble and having fun!”

Stan felt like all the air had been punched out of him and for a moment he was worried he wouldn’t be able to speak. He was keenly aware of Jimmy’s presence behind him, as well as the blinding smile Destiny had aimed at him. “You’ve no idea.” It was a balance act between two people who wanted the complete opposite responses out of him, all while he didn’t know what he himself wanted to say. “We got into some real stitches, until he grew out of that sorta stuff.”

Destiny’s smile fell slightly. No way to keep everyone happy, he supposed.

Stan leaned on the bar and allowed silence to fall. It felt like an age before Amy finally returned. “Alright, it’s all ready! You guys wanna tell me when you think you’ll be wanting dinner?”

“Nah, we’re alright. We’ve got sandwich stuff.”

Amy’s face twitched but stayed smiling. “Growing kids like that, don’t they need a bit more than a couple of sandwiches for dinner?”

Nice up-sale, Stan thought. Probably would’ve worked on someone with money to spend. Or on someone who’s actual kids it was. “They ain’t gonna do any growing overnight. Here that, you two? You’d better be the same size tomorrow morning.”

“I make no promises,” Destiny said.

Amy lead the way to another house to the side of the diner, with a plain wooden porch and three separate rooms with no numbers. It looked like it might’ve been another garage done up into a bunch of rooms.

“Just tell me if you need anything,” Amy said, more to the kids than Stan. Probably thought they’d be more likely to spend more of their own money than him.

She left and Stan dumped the bags just inside the door. “Right, I’m gonna go have that beer. You two can either stay here, or don’t.”

“Hold on,” Ty said. “Can we talk about what’s going on here?”

“Nothing’s going on here. For the last time.”

”I don’t trust that Jimmy guy,” Ty went on. “This whole place is really weird. And- and, what are the odds of you running into someone you know at some diner we only ended up in because a truck, _that was on fire_ , ran us of the road?”

”Weirder things’ve happened.”

”You mean like you getting stabbed with a death curse ’cause you wanted to make a quick buck and refused to listen to us?” Ty deadpanned.

”Look, if you don’t like my methods, you’re welcome to go make your own way to Jersey.”

Ty glared at him.

It hadn’t been a serious suggestion. But now that he’d said it, he couldn’t stop from thinking how crazy this was. He wondered what Jimmy made of this whole situation, of seeing Stan again after six years with a pair of kids in tow. Would Jimmy understand if he tried to explain it? Probably not. Anybody who knew the first thing about Stan knew that he wouldn’t and couldn’t and _shouldn’t_ be looking after anybody.

He moved his bag to the bed and started rooting through it for a semi-clean shirt. ”Not to sound like a broken record, but what _is it_ that you need your uncle for?”

He turned, shirt bunched up in his hand to look at the kids. Neither of them seemed very eager to answer. Stan sighed. ”Don’t know why I expected anything else. Look, whatever it is, do you really think you’ll be able to find him, when you got _nothing_ to go on?”

”We do have something to go on,” Destiny mumbled.

”What? That he might possibly have lived in New Jersey at some point? That’s not a lead, kid. That’s barely a hunch.”

The kids were quiet.

“All I’m saying is, maybe you should consider your other options.”

It got real quiet for a while. Finally Destiny spoke, in a gentle voice. “It’s okay. I know you’re just saying that because you’re upset about all the mean stuff Jimmy said about your brother.”

Stan flinched. Okay, so they’d apparently heard enough of his and Jimmy’s conversation to know what it’d been about. Stan pointed a sharp finger at her. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“He’s wrong though!” She threw her hands out. “You and your bro were best friends. That stuff doesn’t just go away! I just know if you just talked to each other and hugged it out, everything would be fine.”

The words and the smile they were delivered with, hurt like a gut punch. “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And I’ve heard a lot of stupid stuff.”

Destiny took a small, hurt breath, staring at him with wide eyes. But Stan wasn’t going to feel guilty about that. Especially since she refused to drop the subject. 

“You can’t just give up on him. He needs you!”

“No, he doesn’t! He’s made it pretty darn clear that the only thing he needs from me is to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“You don’t understand. He-”

“No, _you_ don’t understand! You’re just a dumb, naive little kid. Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m one of the bad people. I’ve never been any good to anyone, and there isn’t a single person who needs me.” He was yelling, towering over this kind, small kid, like one of his own childhood bullies. No wonder she started crying.

“Hey!” Ty snapped, getting off the bed.

“Stop saying that!” Destiny’s voice cracked from screaming and she was clenching her fists so tight that they shook. Tears streaked down her round cheeks, and still she was trying to look tough.

—

—

Stan really was the lowest piece of filth.

Ty rushed to Destiny’s side, placing himself halfway between her and Stan. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shot Stan a sharp glare.

Destiny sniffed loudly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Her nose was running and after a few sniffs, she pulled a wadd of crumpled toilet paper from inside one of her sweater. She blew her nose and gave Stan a sour look.

“Maybe you should leave,” Ty said.

Stan was getting to think that maybe he should. He put the shirt he’d grabbed back inside the bag. Suddenly getting out the room was way more important than cleaning up. “Don’t get in any trouble.”

He opened the door and exited into the fading light, feeling the kids’ eyes on him as he left. The air was still so cold, even as they moved southward. He shoved his clenched hands deep in his pockets and tried to force the barfy feeling back down his throat.

It wasn’t like he was wrong! What business did these kids have trying to pick through his past and tell him what to do? Especially when they worked so hard to not let slip any detail about themselves and what they were up to. Why the hell should he feel guilty?

He stepped back into the diner. It seemed to have gotten a lot darker in there. His eyes were drawn to the red bandana covering Jimmy’s hair. He went up to the bar and sat down next to his old friend, and ordered himself a drink. They were quiet for a while.

His mind was carefully brushing over the things he didn’t want to be thinking. But he couldn’t escape that forever. He had kept thinking that he ‘might as well’ take Ford’s stupid journal across country, and he ‘might as well’ let the kids come with, because he didn’t have anything better to do. Now, maybe he did, so what did that mean?

“Careful, or you’re gonna pull something.”

Stan spit out the sip he’d been in the middle of taking. “Hah?”

“I can hear you almost thinking. You’re gonna get a headache if you’re not careful.”

Stan snorted. “I’ve been having a headache this whole week.” He wished Jimmy would’ve shut up for a moment longer, so he could get his thoughts in order before he felt the need to talk. “So, how long’ve you been hanging around this place?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Not long. It’s good for getting leads, but hanging around nothing but demons gets kinda tired after a while.”

Stan had to run the sentence by himself a second time before it sunk in properly. He could almost hear Ty’s smug, squeaky voice going, ‘I told you so!’ over and over. “Of course.” He rubbed his forehead. “Of course they’re demons. ‘Cause that was just what I was missing this week.”

Jimmy coughed out a laugh. “How could you not know that they’re demons? You’re contracted aren’t you?”

“Contracted?” Stan echoed.

Jimmy stared at him for a moment. “Contracted… to, you know, an immortal hell beast?”

Stan took a moment before he was able to force a word out. “No?”

Jimmy looked around the room. Nobody was paying attention to them. “And- And those two are, what, just regular kids?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Jimmy sat frozen for a moment, slack jawed, before leaning his head back and bursting into a teeth clattering laugh. Stan leaned away slightly while he waited for him to finish.

“Glad you’re having fun,” he muttered, once Jimmy started to calm down.

“Oh, I’m starting to.” Jimmy wiped his eyes. “Careful you don’t let that slip to anybody else. The only reason these demons’re leaving you alone is ‘cause they think you’re already earmarked for somebody else.”

Stan looked up and noticed Amy was looking at them from the other end of the room. He bumped his shoulder into Jimmy and lowered his voice. “Are you telling me you made a deal with the actual, actually real Devil?”

_”A_ devil,” Jimmy corrected. “Nasty guy called Corson.”

Stan whistled, impressed. “So what was it you wanted so badly that you’d trade your soul for it?”

Jimmy was silent and motionless for a moment, staring down into his drink. “Revenge,” he said finally. “I guess.”

Stan wanted to ask for details, but the short answer had him feeling like Jimmy wasn’t gonna want to elaborate. “Huh. I’d’ve gone for infinite money, but each to their own, I guess.”

“About what I said before…” Jimmy started. “I meant it, you know. It’s been real dull without you.”

Stan felt like he couldn’t breathe. The thought of getting back on the road with Jimmy was good – wasn’t it? He hadn’t had anyone on his side for a real long time. Of course, Jimmy and the gang had only been on his side for as long as it was convenient for them, but that didn’t mean that all the stuff that had gone before had been bad. It’d been a whole lot better than someone like him should expect.

He breathed deeply and stared blankly ahead. ”Y’know, my whole life, it’s been like I only ever had one option. I _had to_ learn to fight, survive on my own, go to prison for something I didn’t even do…” He sent Jimmy a pointed look. 

Jimmy scoffed. “No need to act high and mighty. You’d’ve come along if you could’ve.”

Oh yeah, Stan had almost managed to repress the memory of that awful stomach bug that’d left him bedridden while Jimmy and the Cobras went to execute the motorcycle dealership heist he’d helped them plan. “I know. Thanks for reminding me,” he said dryly.

He’d been asleep on one of the tattered sofas in the Crazy Cobras’ clubhouse when I sharp knock and a whole lot of shouting woke him up. He’d been too out of it to understand the words and had assumed it was Jimmy and the gang returning. Boy, he must’ve looked dumb when he opened the door and laid eyes on the cops outside.

Between the fever and having just woken up, he didn’t immediately understand why they were there, or why they were handcuffing him and the instinct to try and get away did not help his defence later. He’d ran back into the clubhouse, but there were more cops at the garage exit. Clearly, they’d hoped to find the whole gang and brought the entire station with them. Stan hadn’t stood a chance.

He hadn’t remembered the heist until he was sitting alone in a holding cell. And that’s when he knew that it had gone badly and that Jimmy and the Cobras were gone.

In the end, he’d gotten off easy, all things considered. They couldn’t get him on anything but having been in the room while someone might’ve talked about burglarizing the dealership, and for refusing to give up the names or whereabouts of the gang. Still, a year was a long time to be locked up, and the short stay didn’t take the sting out of getting out and realizing he was on his own again. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t’ve completely botched it if I had been there.”

Jimmy didn’t respond, but Stan wasn’t gonna keep going without some kind of acknowledgement. After a long while, Jimmy muttered, “Maybe.”

“Anyway,” Stan leaned back on his stool, trying to feel some level of satisfaction at getting someone to admit he had his uses. “Options. Choices. When my brother got back in touch after all those years, and he needed my help, I didn’t really have any other choice but to come running.” He looked down into his beer, let the sounds from around the restaurant wrap around his head like a blanket. “And now I’m sitting here, thinking about what I oughta chose – keep going or give up.”

Jimmy was staring at him from behind his sunglasses, not saying a word. Stan only glanced at him for a second, trying not to read his expression in too much detail or guess what he might be thinking.

“And I’m realizing that there isn’t an actual choice here either.” He smiled, because it was funny, wasn’t it? That a guy with no roots, no home, no job or friends, could be so stuck. “If I go with you, those two’re left in some kind of situation I don’t even know how bad it might be. And sure, maybe some part of me wanna say ‘who cares?’ and wash my hands of it, but I know I can’t.” He was being too honest again, but he was too tired and tipsy to care. He closed his eyes. “Because they’re like me, getting thrown around by the waves while looking for something they’ll probably never find.”

He threw back the last of his beer and waited for a reaction. He was pretty sure Jimmy wouldn’t get it. It was still no doubt a stupid thing he was doing. He could feel Jimmy’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his face, but refused to look that way.

“You really haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Jimmy said in an unreadable tone.

“Guess not,” Stan said, even though he wasn’t sure what Jimmy was talking about.

“That why you’re wasting your time on your brother?”

Why did everybody just want to talk about Ford today? Stan lifted his glass to ask for a top up. If he was going to waste money he might as well do it properly. Amy came over to refill his glass. Stan didn’t need to look up to know she was looking at him disapprovingly. Well, fuck her, and whatever random reason she’d cooked up to dislike him.

He took a sip that was mostly foam.

Not that everybody wanting to talk about Stanford was anything new. Whether it was parents or teachers or meatheaded bullies, everybody had some opinion on Ford and what he was doing and how smart or weird he was. Love or hate him, everybody agreed that Ford was the one worth talking about and that Stan was his shadow.

Seemed like even people who’d never met Ford couldn’t stop talking about him. Destiny first, and now Jimmy, who had a hell of a lot of opinions on a situation he knew nothing about.

A bell went off in Stan’s head. He searched his memory of the past few hours, thinking about every conversation he’d had, but he already knew. He wouldn’t have made that kind of mistake.

Jimmy was still waiting for his answer.

“Been covering his ass since we were tiny. Why stop now, huh?” He took another sip. “One thing’s got me confused though.”

“What’s that?”

“What was it you said earlier? You were going on about some book or something. I didn’t wanna say anything but it had me scratching my head, ‘cause I can’t think of _what_ you could’ve meant by that.” He finally turned to face Jimmy and he really enjoyed that caught-in-the-headlights look on his old, unflappable buddy.

He could see the gears turning, and the moment Jimmy decided to give up whatever game he was playing. “You know exactly what I was talking about,” he said, voice low and sharp. Then he stood up. “Actually, you have no freaking idea what we’re talking about. That book’s got some real serious stuff in it.”

Stan scoffed and crossed his arms. He refused to get to his feet, or let Jimmy’s blatant intimidation ploy get to him. “Some serious nerd stuff, you mean?”

Stan was feeling pretty good about himself for a second there, until Jimmy grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “This isn’t freaking funny, you piece of filth.” Someone in the restaurant laughed, but no one else seemed to take notice. “You wanna know how you get into a contract with a demon? ‘Cause it isn’t what you think.”

Stan looked down at Jimmy’s hand clenched in his shirt. “Are you just gonna dangle me in the air through your whole dramatic backstory?”

Jimmy looked like he was considering doing just that, just out of spite. Then he let go and allowed Stan to fall back onto his barstool. Stan brushed himself off. “Why don’t you explain what the hell’s going on with you and why you think I got some book that you want?”

Jimmy sat back down with a sigh. “You don’t enter into a contract with a demon ‘cause it’s a good deal – or at least I didn’t. A couple of years ago, I got into some serious… stuff. You don’t need to know the details, but ‘nuff said that I ended up with a bullet in my neck and some lowlife taking off with my ride. I was laying in the dirt in the middle of the night, waiting for death or for one of the boys to come by and pick me up. Then, this light appeared, like the ground had caught fire. And then this guy was standing over me. An actual, bullet red, pointy tailed and pointy horned demon.”

Jimmy took a swig of his bear, like he wanted to pause for dramatic effect. “He cut me a deal. Said he’d put me back together and give me the powers to take my revenge on the morons who tried offing me. And all I had to do was help him collect the souls of the damned.”

“So…” Stan fumbled. “You got yourself a new neck and a new job. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“That’s what I thought, at first. Only problem was, if I went more than a few days without harvesting some souls, I’d start feeling like someone’d poured melted steel down my throat.” He touched his neck at the memory. “I’ve never found out what happens if I go any longer than a couple of weeks without harvesting a soul.”

Stan clicked his tongue. “The world must be heading a pretty rotten way if even demons gotta outsource.”

“Demons can’t kill humans.” Amy was suddenly standing over them.

“Can’t remember when I asked for your input,” Jimmy glowered.

“And I don’t remember when I asked for a bunch of humans to show up in my business,” she sniped back, all while keeping up the costumer service smile. Then she turned to Stan. “Another fun fact: contracted humans can’t hurt another contracted human, since they’re considered the property of whatever demon they’ve made a deal with.” She gave him a weighty look before picking up a plate from the kitchen window and striding off.

Stan scratched his neck and furrowed his brow. He felt like he’d missed something. Apparently Amy had decided she didn’t hate him anymore, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of why she might’ve changed her mind.

“Wait,” he said, turning back to Jimmy. “You said your job was ‘collecting souls’, nothing about killing people.”

Jimmy was glaring at Amy across the room. “How else would you do it?”

“I dunno. Guess I always imagined that if demons were real, they’d just wait around for people to die and get their souls after?” Even after everything that had happened over the past few days, he felt silly talking about this stuff like it was actually real.

“That’s exactly what they do. It just so happens that some people die from getting killed by a human owned by a demon.”

“Seems like cheating.” Stan smiled.

“Demons.”

“Fair.”

After some silence, Stan took a breath. “Gotta admit, whenever I wondered what you might be up to, supernatural serial killer was pretty fucking low on my list.”

“So you’ve been thinking about me?”

Stan froze. His first instinct was to deny or make excuses. “Of course I have,” he muttered. “You left me to rot. Kinda hard to forget.”

Jimmy smiled. “Doesn’t it make a difference that I didn’t want to do it?”

“In my experience, no. Now, are you gonna explain why you want that book?”

“It’s starting to get real tedious, constantly having to chase down shi- bad types and harvest their souls. Been thinking for a real long time that I oughta find some way out of it.”

Stan waited for Jimmy to continue, but after a while he was forced to ask. “And you figure this book’s gonna get you that?”

He tried to remember what Ford had said about the journal. Before now, he’d been trying hard to avoid thinking about it. Blah, blah magic portals, end of the world, blah blah. Nothing about demons or how to get out of a bad deal. But then again, Stan hadn’t been listening that closely.

Jimmy bared his teeth in a strange grin. “Let’s just say I’ve got an offer from a beast that makes these guys look like schoolyard bullies.”

Stan took a look around the restaurant, especially at the fedora gang still sitting at their table. They already didn’t look that intimidating, even if he knew that they were demons. Especially not if what Amy had said was true. Jimmy hadn’t challenged it, even though he’d said…

“With that book, he’ll be able to transfer my contract to him and release me from it.”

Stan leaned his chin in his hand and squinted at his old friend. “Let me get this straight… You’ve made a deal with a guy who is _worse_ than the guy you’re currently stuck with, and you think that he’s _not_ gonna screw you over?”

Jimmy scoffed. “If you knew anything about demons, you’d know that they can’t break verbal contracts.”

“Uh, yeah, genie rules, right? If _you’d_ read a book, you’d know that those guys twist words and leave themselves loopholes. What exactly did he say to you?”

Jimmy pulled his shoulders up and tightened his hands around his glass. “I haven’t asked for your darn advice, Steve. Are you gonna hand over that book or am I gonna have to get nasty?”

Stan’s heart rate picked up in preparation for whatever might happen next. That was enough to tell him that he’d already made up his mind. He might not understand much of this demon stuff, or what Jimmy’s new ally had said to him, but he knew he didn’t trust a guy who was desperate to make good decisions, and he _definitely_ didn’t trust whatever thing had talked Jimmy into trying this.

Before he’d voiced his answer, the air shifted. A wave of heat was coming off of Jimmy, kinda like the truck from earlier. Flames rose inside Jimmy’s jacket collar, climbing up his head and setting his hair on fire. His skin turned sooty black and melted away, revealing shiny white bone. The flames formed a billowing mane around his head. Somehow, the red bandana didn’t burn or get dislodged by the melting skin and flesh.

Stan leaned very far back on his stool. He wondered if he oughta say something, but it wasn’t like Jimmy was going to miss that he was on fire. Somebody across the room laughed and whooped.

Jimmy removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of pitch black eye sockets. “What will it be, kid?”

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wzr fkloguhq, fduublqj dq rog pdq’v uhjuhwv.


	11. Demonic Pocket Dimension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sticky situation, with only one way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this took a bit longer than expected. I had to rewrite big parts of it after I thought it was finished. It might be a little while before the next chapter, 'cause I need to do some planning for the next few chapters.

The fire coming off of Jimmy lit the whole room. The other patrons looked on from the shadows, their eyes reflecting the fire like animals in the headlights of a car at night.

Stan laughed at how similar this moment was to their first meeting, all those years ago. At the bar of some seedy nowhere establishment, Jimmy threatening to beat the snot out of him and Stan with nothing but the element of surprise on his side.

Jimmy cocked his head to the side. He didn’t get to ask what was so funny before Stan grabbed his hand and yanked it forward within biting range. Stan clamped his teeth around the boney fingers, as hard as he could.

After an awkward pause, Jimmy said. “Uh… What are you tryin’a do here?” He started shaking his hand like someone trying to dislodge a small, angry dog. “You’re really freaking me out.”

Stan let go and stared at Jimmy, but nothing happened. “Huh, that worked on the last ghost I ran into.”

Jimmy made a choking noise, which made no sense since he didn’t have a throat right now. His jaw twitched and he roared, “I’m not a ghost, you moron!” He seized Stan by the throat. The bones were painfully hot on his skin. The demons shouted and laughed. Nobody was moving to interfere. “I eat ghosts for breakfast, literally. Now, are you gonna tell me where that book is?”

Stan’s mind raced for a way out. Jimmy could see his eyes moving and twisted around to fling him across the room. He crashed into the table closest to the door, toppling one of the chairs. “Give it up, Steve. This isn’t some bar brawl you can cheat your way out of.”

Stan got up, supporting his weight on one of the chair that hadn’t been upturned. “You’d be surprised at what a good cheater I’ve become since we split.”

Jimmy laughed, genuinely, even as he was striding towards Stan in a menacing way. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. You usually managed to wriggle your way out of whatever bind you’d gotten yourself into.” Something glimmered inside his eye socket. “But not this time.”

“Wanna bet?” Stan hurled the chair he’d been leaning on, hitting Jimmy square in the chest.

Jimmy stumbled back, but regained his balance quickly. In the blink of an eye, he was up in Stan’s face, slamming a burning fist into Stan’s gut. Stan didn’t get a chance to catch his breath before another fist collided with the side of his jaw. He stumbled to the side, trying to get out of Jimmy’s range long enough to regain his barings.

He stumbled across the room. A searing blast of air hit him in the back, sending him flying. He crashed face first into a table. Someone above him laughed. He looked up to see one of the truckers look down at him with an ugly grin. “Make that forty.”

“Hah?” Stan groaned, but the trucker was talking to the guy next to him.

“No way, I’m already losing.” The second guy gave Stan’s forehead a shove to help him stand. “C’mon meat sack. Up and at ‘em.”

“Fuck off,” Stan snapped.

“Get back here,” Jimmy growled from behind.

Stan dodged his grasping hand and moved to the side to get out of Jimmy’s reach. As he stood straight, he got a whiff of something burnt from behind him and realised that the back of his jacket had been scorched through.

Turning around, he saw Jimmy raise his fist again. Flames burst out from between the bones in his palm, engulfing his hand and the better part of his lower arm. “Oh. Fuck.”

Jimmy laughed. “Oh fuh’s right.” He stopped in his tracks, opened and closed his mouth a couple of times with a low click of teeth striking teeth. “Fu- Fudge? Shot? Cut!” He let out a growl. “That little brat. When I get my hands on her…”

Stan starred. “Excuse me?”

Jimmy covered his eyeless sockets with one hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t freaking matter.”

Stan furrowed his brow. “You can’t… swear?” His eyes widened. “Because Destiny asked you not to!?”

If a skeleton could look embarrassed, Jimmy sure did.

“Another fun side effect of being contracted to a demon,” Amy said, leaning over the bar. “Your word is literally your bound.”

Stan burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “You’re telling me-” He fought to catch his breath. “You’ve been dealing with this thing for years and you still accidentally gave up your cursing privileges?”

The fire around Jimmy’s head flared up so high it touched the ceiling. “Shut it!” He threw his hand out, hurling fire in Stan’s direction. Stan tumbled behind the corner of the bar, only just managing to get out of the way. The fire exploded against the back wall in a small but bright flash.

He leaned back against the bar for a second, before crawling further along.

“Speaking of bets…” Stan looked up to see Amy towering over him. She gave him a lopsided grin. “I’ve got 15 dollars on you, so you better get your shit together.”

“I can _not_ get a read on you,” Stan groaned.

Stan knew he only had a couple of seconds before Jimmy lept behind the bar after him. He looked around the shelves under the counter. Stacks of precariously balanced glasses, cutlery, napkins. His eyes fell on something bright yellow, shoved under the sink. That might work.

He’d barely had time to finish his thought before Jimmy poked his head over the bar. “I can do this all-”

Stan lept for the yellow mop bucket, stood straight and poured the contents over Jimmy’s head. Soapy, grimy water washed over Jimmy’s shoulders and ran down his fancy leather jacket. Stan left the bucket sitting on Jimmy’s head and backed away. Blue smoke billowed out from under the bucket. Stan stood still.

Just as the slightest spark of hope flared up in his chest, Jimmy laughed. “Quick thinking, Steve.” 

Jimmy took the bucket off and tossed it on the floor. He tried wiping some of the water of his face, but his fleshless fingers didn’t seem much good for that. “Too bad it doesn’t work that way. I’m not powered by fire, it’s powered by _me."_

Stan snatched up a glass and threw it, ‘cause fuck if he was gonna give up. Jimmy didn’t even try to deflect it from dinging him in the forehead. The glass didn’t break and rolled away on the floor. Jimmy moved like he hadn’t even noticed it.

Stan backed away, trying to slip through the door to the kitchen, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Jimmy dragged him across the bar by the throat and held him high enough that his toes were barely touching the floor. Stan grabbed his wrist with both hands, fruitlessly trying to pry it off. Jimmy turned him around, just so he wouldn’t have the bar to lean on.

“This is very simple,” he said. “Either you hand over the book and I get on my way, or you keep your mouth shut, I kill you and take you and your sh- trash car apart piece by piece until I find it myself.”

“Fuck you,” Stan croaked out, just ‘cause he could still curse and Jimmy couldn’t.

The flames were already starting to flare back up around Jimmy’s skull, with a more red tint this time. His fingers were getting painfully hot against Stan’s skin. Jimmy really would kill him, without remorse, Stan realized. Somehow, it still managed to surprise him. Sure, Jimmy would leave him to rot in prison, and yeah, he’d dredged up all of his anger toward his brother to get something out of him. But this still felt unreal.

What was in this journal that had Jimmy and his buddy this desperate?

Stan should’ve known something like this would happen. He’d gone to see Ford and left again without thinking things through. It should’ve been obvious Ford wasn’t gonna wanna reconnect out of the blue after a decade’s radio silence. And he should’ve sensed that there was something weird with what he’d asked of him.

A very hateful, dark part of his mind wondered what Ford would’ve liked him to do here. Not that it mattered what Ford wanted. He wasn’t here. “Fine, I’ll tell you. On one condition.” Right now, all that mattered was getting himself out of yet another rat trap.

Jimmy tilted his head to the side. “You’re not really in a position to make demands.”

Stan ignored him. “Once you’ve gotten your hand on that book…” He took a breath. “I never want anything to do with you again. And I mean nothing. Not me or anything to do with me either.”

“If that’s what you want.” Jimmy shrugged. “It’s a real shame. The two of us could’ve had fun.”

“Yeah, until you’d gone a couple of days without some soul food. That’s what happened to Mike and the others, right?”

Jimmy titled his head down and his grip on Stan’s neck tightened. “You don’t get to judge me!” he snapped. “I didn’t wanna do it, but we had a couple of weeks of bad luck. We travelled through the desert for days and in all the towns we came across there wasn’t a single moron bad enough to collect. I was getting weak, couldn’t think straight.” 

Stan was trying to listen, but the fight to breathe made it hard to concentrate.

“And then one night, I looked at the gang and I realised – all of them were rotten through with all the terrible things they’d ever done and said and thought.” He seemed lost in memory, his voice trembling slightly. “It was only gonna be once. But it was just so easy, and after a while the guys started to wonder about all the accidents and people leaving in the middle of the night without a word. They all peeled off, one after one. Mikey stayed the longest.” Jimmy let out a laugh that was somewhere between mocking and sad. “I kinda wonder when he’d’ve left, if I held off.”

Stan inhaled as deeply as he could and croaked out, “Mike was always…” Breath. “...a dunce.” Breath. Cough.

Jimmy turned his attention back to the present and to Stan. _“You’re_ the dunce. I’m getting out of this deal and getting on with my life.”

Stan didn’t say anything. He knew Jimmy was being duped by whatever thing he’d gotten involved with, but he wasn’t going to listen to Stan about it. Because nobody fucking listened to Stan, even when he was obviously right.

“Don’t worry! I mean, it’s been like 15 minutes. How much trouble could he possibly- Oh, c’mon!”

Stan and JImmy turned their attention towards the door. Of course it was the kids. Ty was holding the door open, looking irritated and very frazzled. Destiny had yet to step within Stan’s line of sight.

“What’s ‘oh c’mon?’” She poked her head inside. “Oh. No…”

The distraction had Jimmy’s grip slipping slightly, enough for Stan to plant both feet on the ground and speak without struggling for breath. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the room?” he said, trying not to sound like he was out of breath.

“You did not,” Ty said.

Stan groaned. “Well, I’m telling you now. Go back to the room and stay there.”

“Oh no, stick around!” Jimmy smarmed. “We’re almost finished here anyway. You, girl one.” Jimmy pointed a bony finger at Destiny. “You’re gonna give me permission to swear again.”

After a very long moment of everyone staring at the burning skeleton, Destiny tilted her head to the side with a look of complete confusion. “Huh what?”

Jimmy growled. “It’s not what it sounds- Never mind!” He jostled Stan. “Release me from this bond!”

Destiny looked at Stan with wide eyes..

Stan tried to smile, even though he didn’t expect Destiny to find him all that reassuring, after the spat they had earlier. “That’s just Jimmy. He’s looking a bit different ‘cause he’s… having a moment.”

“I knew it!” Ty exclaimed, sounding way more frustrated than smug. “He’s some kind of ghost thing!”

“I’m not a freaking ghost!” Jimmy snapped, before groaning at being forced to use such a dorky word. “And I am about done with all of you.” He turned his eyeless gaze on Stan. “You’re gonna tell me where that book is, and _you…”_ He pointed to Destiny with the hand not wrapped around Stan’s throat. “…Are gonna say ‘our deal’s off’, or whatever, before I lose my patience.”

Stan could see the fear swirling behind Destiny’s eyes. Then she steadied herself, hands clenching at her sides and chin tilting up defiantly. “Let him go first.”

As much as it wouldn’t help the situation any, Stan kinda wanted to cheer her on for not letting herself be intimidated.

The fingers around his neck got even hotter, and started to glow. Stan couldn’t hold back a pained hiss. “Let. Me. Off,” Jimmy said through clenched teeth.

Stan caught Destiny’s eye and gave her a slight nod.

She hesitated still, before nodding back. “Fine. Our deal’s off,”

“Fucking shit!” Jimmy said, pronouncing every sound with great gusto.

The kids both went to cover their ears.

“That feels fucking amazing!”

“Okay, calm down. It isn’t that exciting,” Stan muttered.

The smugness was beaming off of Jimmy like the fire. “Now,” he said slowly. “Where’s the book?”

“Wait, _that’s_ what he wants?” Ty looked at Stan. “What book?”

“Can we maybe talk about that a bit later?” Stan snapped.

Jimmy was waiting for him to speak, but even though there was nothing else for him to do, Stan faltered.

Jimmy’s unknown friend was for sure going to screw him over, but that didn’t have to matter to Stan. If Ford’s journal was going to keep putting him and the kids in danger, it might be better for all of them if Stan gave it up.

Jimmy had been right about one thing. This wasn’t gonna get him his brother back. And as far as family obligations went, him and Ford hadn’t been close like that for a really long time.

Letting go seemed so much easier, even without Jimmy’s offer to tempt him. 

He gave Jimmy a dirty look. “Pocket inside the jacket, my left.”

Jimmy didn’t have a face at the moment, so his reaction was impossible to read. He kept his grip on Stan’s neck while reaching inside his jacket. The jacket was lumpy enough that the rectangular shape didn’t show from the outside, but looking from the inside you couldn’t miss it.

Jimmy shoved his boney hand inside the left side pocket and pulled out the battered book. The second he had it in his hand, an unseen force pushed him backwards and Stan flopped to the floor like a fish.

Jimmy fell on his bony backside, but the sound he let out was more triumphant than pained. He raised his hand and laughed. “Finally! See how you like this, you smug, snaggletoothed bastard.” He looked up to gaze on the solution to all his problems. Clearly, he hadn’t known exactly what it was supposed to look like, because it took him three takes to realise that Stan’s copy of _Miss Caroline Swoons Again_ wasn’t gonna be much help to him. “What is this trash!?”

—

—

Stan brushed himself off and grinned obnoxiously. “That’s the only book I own, so I’ve no clue what else you could be talking about.”

Jimmy stared down at the paperback in his hand. It took him a sadly long time to realize he’d been had. He tightened his grip, eye sockets lighting up with rage. He got up and took one step towards Stan, but it was like something was holding him back. Their eyes locked and Stan crossed his arms. “Never say I never taught you nothing.”

The paperback caught fire at the corners, and Jimmy tossed it. “I should’ve killed you back in Phoenix,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, hindsight's 20/20.”

Jimmy glanced at the kids. Ty flinched and brought his arm up in front of Destiny.

“Ah, ah!” Stan raised a finger. “You’re not allowed around me, or _anything_ to do with me, remember?”

Jimmy looked ready to explode, but then he seemed to lose steam – or smoke, if you liked. The flames around his head started to die down, while muscle and skin blossomed and spread over his face like pink mold. His eyelids grew back in place and opened to reveal his blue eyes, back in place. He looked tired.

“You don’t even need that book. But it could fix everything for me.”

Stan knew there was nothing he could say to convince Jimmy otherwise, and the more he tried, the more it’d sound like he was lying. “Get out of here, Jimmy.” He’d’ve liked to tell him to look after himself, but that seemed condescending.

His old friend glared at him one last time before turning away. Stan beckoned the kids to him to let Jimmy exit. They gave Jimmy a wide berth, even though Jimmy wasn’t paying them any attention. As soon as the way was clear, he strode up to the doors and threw them open hard enough that they almost bounced back in his face. With that, he left without looking back.

Stan stood still for a moment, before going to pick up his paperback and slap the fire down. The bottom of the cover had turned completely black on both sides and the pages were sooty and brittle along the lower edges. But the damage wasn’t bad enough to make the book unreadable.

He tucked the book back into his jacket. All eyes were on him – the demon patrons and the kids behind him. He tucked his hands into his pockets and scowled. “Right. Show’s over.”

“Congrats on not dying.”

Stan turned to face Amy, who’d rounded the bar and was sitting on top of one of the stools. “Uh… Thanks…?” Curiosity got the better of him. “It helped to get some insight into all these dumb rules. Sure was unexpected though.” He gave her a pointed look.

The demonic waitress leaned back against the bar, looking at him with a curious tilt to her head. “Honestly, when I first got my eyes on you I thought you were just some average, terrible dad who don’t care about his family. But I realised I was like completely wrong!”

“Uh huh…” Stan immediately started to sweat. He was careful not to look at the kids, in case they might accidentally give themselves up by looking too confused. “How do you figure that?”

“You’re like, really trying with these two, and that’s a whole lot better than a lot of other parents.”

Stan would’ve figured that demons would have some kind of all seeing abilities. But apparently he was wrong, since Amy was falling for the whole all brown haired people are related thing, like some mere mortal. “That’s me – Mr. Trying.”

“I’ll say,” he thought he heard Ty mutter.

Amy giggled airily, before turning to the patrons. “Alright you people!” She clapped her hands together. “Pay up!”

Scattered boos and hissing came from around the room. Seemed like Amy was one of few people who’d bet on Stan. Not a surprise. Stan would’ve bet on the fire throwing skeleton too.

He turned back to the kids “Think that’s our que.” He said, pointing to the door with his thumb. He sounded calm, but inside his heart was still racing like it was gonna fling itself out of his body.

Jimmy was nowhere to be seen outside, but Stan still moved with caution. He hadn’t seen Jimmy’s bike when they’d arrived, so he might’ve parked somewhere weird. Even if Jimmy couldn’t do nothing to them, Stan would like not to have another awkward conversation with the guy he’d just conned.

He rounded the first corner of restaurant and headed towards the motel rooms in the back. The kids were walking close behind him, but he didn’t have the energy to acknowledge them right this second.

Mike was dead. And who knew how many other Cobras. They weren’t good people – of course not – but that didn’t mean they deserved to get their souls chewed up. Especially not by someone they admired and trusted as much as they all did Jimmy. Stan wondered who of them had been smart enough to get out. Probably Doug and Walt, at least. They were brighter than most and had never been as taken in by Jimmy’s charm.

He looked up at the dark sky, trying to find the North Star. 

Getting back in with the Cobra gang had never been a serious desire. But still, knowing that he never could, even if he changed his mind, weighed heavy on him. It hadn’t been perfect. He’d always sensed that he was only tolerated, because he had brawn and knew how to tell a good story. Not to mention that they had all ditched him without hesitation the moment it’d been convenient. But at least he hadn’t been alone.

He stopped then. Speaking of being alone, that wasn’t really the problem at the moment. His problem right now was that he _wasn’t_ alone, and saddled with far more responsibility than he should be trusted with. He turned around to face the kids, who’d stopped when he did.

There was an awkward silence, where Stan tried to think of what to say. “Have you eaten yet?”

The kids shared a look.

“No, not yet,” Ty said. “Are you gonna explain what the heck happened back there?”

Stan thought about getting snippy about equal exchange, but he really wasn’t up for another argument. “Apparently this place is some kind of demon hot spot. You-” He raised his hands to keep the kids from asking questions. “You don’t gotta worry about them, though. Apparently demon’s need to outsource to humans to do their dirty work.”

Ty nodded slowly. “Is that what Jimmy is?”

“Demon errand boy? Yup. But he’s not gonna bother us anymore.” Stan felt pretty smug, despite what a nightmare-day it had been.

“Are you sure we’re alright staying here? I mean, what if one of the demons decides to send their own skeleton fire human person?”

Honestly, compared to some other places Stan had spent the night, this wasn’t all that bad. “If these bozos were gonna try anything, they’d done it way sooner.” Not necessarily true. But it’d do for reassuring the kids.

“I guess…” Ty said, tapping his chin.

An awkward silence fell over them. Destiny was leaning back against the restaurant wall, hands resting on her knees, and with a haggard look on her face. She glanced at Stan and her frown deepened.

Stan knew what it was like to be forced to rely on someone you knew wasn’t safe. It sucked, even for someone who was pretty tough.

“Look, kid…” He scratched the back of his head. “About earlier, I shouldn’t have yelled like that. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Destiny looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. She smiled slightly, but then tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, shoot, kiddo!” Stan floundered and waved his hands around awkwardly. “What’s wrong now?”

Destiny rubbed her face roughly and smiled again. “That’s not why I got upset. You’re so not scary.” She pushed away from the wall and threw herself at him, wrapping both arms around his middle and squeezing tight. “I’m crying ‘cause you’re so stupid.”

—

—

Stan choked on his breath before he burst out laughing. “Y’ouch, you know how to cut a guy down to size.”

But Destiny didn’t laugh. After a moment, Stan wrapped his arms around her in turn. “You’re not wrong though.” He ran his hand over her hair, absently trying to pat down the cowlick at the back of her head.

Ty was looking on with an unreadable expression. Maybe he wasn’t as happy as Destiny to forgive and forget Stan acting like a complete knucklehead. Stan could respect that. He wouldn’t have forgiven somebody for making Ford cry.

“It’s getting late,” Stan said, trying to break the serious mood. “What d’you say to something to eat and calling it the night?”

After a pause, Destiny peaked up at him from under her bang and smiled mischievously. “Can we have pancakes aga-?”

“We’re not having pancakes again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oryh vdyhv wkh gdb. Eb oryh L phdq urpdqfh qryhov, ri frxuvh.


End file.
